


When Deception is Exposed

by stuffilikeiwrite



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Leia Organa, Darth Vader Needs a Hug, Darth Vader Redemption, Family, Family Drama, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa-centric, POV Leia Organa, Parent Darth Vader, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Skywalker Fam Drama, Suited Darth Vader, implications of attempted abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffilikeiwrite/pseuds/stuffilikeiwrite
Summary: "You're not going to return me to Alderaan, are you.""I am not."
Relationships: Bail Organa & Darth Vader, Bail Organa & Leia Organa, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Darth Vader
Comments: 151
Kudos: 415





	1. Perceptions Altered

"You're not going to return me to Alderaan, are you."

Leia spoke matter of factly, drawing her legs up to her chest. She did her best to keep the quiver out of her tone and be the adult she'd imagined herself to be. She was thirteen, desperate to prove to her father that she could hold her own against the Empire. Bail Organa and his wife, Queen Breha, had been wrapped up in Alderaan political duties - much to the dismay of the senate, and more-so _Governor Tarkin_. 

In a spur of the moment, perhaps overly confident in her own abilities, Leia had offered herself up to go in their stead. As a _negotiator_ of sorts, but mostly as a stand in senator. Many a time, she had been present through her legislature. She knew the bearings of the Coruscant hierarchy, knew how to socialize with the elite. Now, she was beginning to regret her decision; for fear of a possible trap. Using her as bait to _snare her father_.

"I am _not_."

The voice was deep, grumbling and loud. _Booming_ , bouncing between the durasteel walls like an echo. Devoid of any emotion, accompanied only by the steadfast breathing mechanism. Lord Vader wouldn't even spare her a glance, his draped back turned towards her. Still, Leia dared not use the concealed vibroblade she kept in her boot for emergency purposes. He was wide open to her, with his guard deceivingly low in her presence. 

Despite his eyes not being on her, she had a feeling that Vader could _see_ her. That he would somehow be able to _sense_ her attack, somehow be able to _read her mind_ if she made any hasty moves. He towered above her in the semi darkness, dim hallway light spilling past his form and into the cell. For it was a cell, _wasn't it_?

"I see," Leia mumbled, mostly to herself.

"You are afraid, _Princess_."

Vader stated the obvious, but Leia braced herself and _refused_ to admit it aloud. She'd never once been afraid in Imperial company before, no matter the rank. No matter the chance of being outed as the daughter of one of the Rebel Alliance's prime leaders. Outed as an accomplice of treason. An enemy of the Empire. No matter having been forced to politely dance with governor Tarkin, to converse with him in a _civil manner_. She tucked a strand of loose dark hair behind her ear, her messy braid coming undone. She was battered, _bruised_.

"It serves you well. _The fear_."

Vader shifted, his slow steps foreboding in the cramped room; black cape trailing behind him as he crossed the small space. If she hadn't known better, Leia would have said the man was uneasy. _Nervous_. 

She shook the thought away. She knew all there was to know about Vader. Imperial reinforcer, the _Emperor's right hand man_ ; the deaths of countless innocents on his conscience, blood on his hands. More machine than man. Leia _knew_ she should be terrified; expect to meet a similar fate. She had heard of the man slaughtering women and children without hesitation. She couldn't be sure, but from what she had seen of him, the rumours - she deduced it might as well be the truth. And yet; yet she sensed within this dark stranger some kind of... _familiarity_. And it left her cold.

"Do you wish to leave this holding cell?"

Leia's head snapped up, brows furrowed in confusion; almost assuming she'd _imagined_ the inquiry. The pregnant silence dragged on, making her skin crawl as she realized Vader was expecting some kind of answer. That he was being _genuine_. He had folded his arms across his chest, clearly impatient.

"Why... why would you ask me that?" she finally croaked, astonishment colouring the tone.

"You have been _deceived_ , Princess."

"Pardon me?"

"Deceived. Caught within a nest of lies."

The girl watched as Vader dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his gloved hands into tight fists, making her flinch and instinctively back up as far as possible. The back of her pristine, flimsy royal attire pressed against the wall; cool durasteel chilling her skin. A thought crossed her mind, making her wonder how many people had been in such close proximity to Vader for any prolonged time and _lived_ to tell the tale.

"I don't understand," she simply said, eyes still fixed on his fists; _wary_.

" _Of course not_. We must speak. I'd like you to follow me," said Vader, turning his helmeted head to - Leia guessed - glance towards the doorway. "You are not my prisoner."

"Then _what am I_? Why am I here? What am _I_ to you?"

"Come."

"I'm ju--"

" _Come_ ," Vader interjected in a harsh, more demanding beckon - it was no request.

The questions remained unanswered, but the power of Vader's command was enough to force Leia up on still wobbly legs. She swallowed hard, straightening her back to improve her posture. She wanted to give a _dignified_ impression; wanted to show as much defiance as possible. Despite the torn back of her gown, exposing most of her pale shoulders. Despite the drying blood still staining her bottom lip crimson red. Despite the darkening bruises on her chin, her wrists.

Vader gestured with his arm towards the exit way, his broad frame looming over her as she followed behind his lead. Wordless, the girl limping ever so slightly as the bones in her straining ankles protested. That was the part she didn’t want to think about. She remembered falling, seemingly endlessly; _hitting her head_. She remembered the officers, her vision faltering; hands on her. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she blocked out the fuzzy memories. She refused to let affect her. When she'd finally regained consciousness, there was only the empty holding cell and Vader. A stiff, uncomfortable mattress beneath her, the sound of his respirator ringing in her ears.

The corridors were crisp white, lights bright and floors speckless. Vader's breathing echoed through the solitary corridors; a constant sound accompanying his heavy foot fall. Leia did her best to keep up with his pace, _willing_ the pain of her injuries away. Strangely, her most intimate spots didn't seem harmed. Didn't seem tarnished. Still, she sighed in relief when the man came to an abrupt halt. _Willed herself not to think_. He stepped aside, silent.

"Sit."

Another command, and despite wanting to remain proud, the princess gave in. She hobbled less gracefully than she'd have hoped over to a small settee. She appeared to be in an Imperial break room. Caf supplies lined along one wall, yet the emptiness made the air cold and stale and heavy. _Oppressive_. Control boards and monitors beeping periodically. Vader nodded as she settled down, _pleased_ \- but he remained standing near the doorway. Perhaps, he was guarding her, would she attempt to escape. Not that there was anywhere she could go, and _he would know that_. Then, the thought struck her that perhaps he was guarding her _from somebody_.

"Have the Queen and her Viceroy informed you of your biological heritage?"

_That_ was unexpected. 

Leia stared at the man, uncomfortable with the inability to read his eyes or his facial features concealed behind the mask. Unable to tell what his ambitions were. Leia had _always_ known she was adopted, had always known how The Organas had been unable to conceive. Yet, she had always felt _loved_ , always felt that they were her _one and only family_. She had been informed of her birth parents, but only in tidbits and small snippets. Her birth mother had been _kind and strong willed_ , according to her father. They had been good friends. As for her birth father, she was left in the dark. She'd only asked once, without receiving any answers. Coming from Vader, the question was uncomfortable and _far_ too intimate. 

"Why would you--" she attempted to defend herself, clearly _offended_.

" _Have they_?" Vader interrupted, no courtesy offered.

Leia pursed her lips as she bit back another snappy retort; jaw set hard as she looked away. She felt his eyes on her, _knew_ she was being monitored closely and she squirmed against her own will. Furrowed her brow, tried her best to cover herself up despite the tattered state of her outfit. Or, _what remained of it_. She shook her head.

"No, or, well... they told me my parents died, during the Clone Wars."

That was mostly the truth, after all.

"Indeed."

Leia gritted her teeth, watching Vader simply stand there like a statue with his arms slack at his sides; contemplating. Head held high, his defenses up. _Impossible to penetrate_.

"What does it matter to you?" she finally scoffed, unable to conceal the hurt of his insinuations or hold herself back. 

The inquiry _stung_ , Bail and Breha were her parents, nothing could change that - blood relation or not. Especially in this moment, she wished they were _here with her_. To comfort her, to patch her up again. Another - _darker_ \- side of her wanted to add _punishing_ her assailants to the list. Surely, her father would have if she'd made the request.

"I have already informed you, Princess. You have been deceived, _as have I_."

"Is this why you won't take me back to Alderaan? Because my parents aren't my birth parents? _Where's the deception in that_? Everyone knows I'm adopted."

Leia's anxiety grew then, the fear of harm befalling her parents. The fear of being used against them for some scheme, the fear of her being kidnapped as leverage. She had no idea what Vader was planning. Yet, she kept her facade as well as she could; kept her expression blank expect for the fire burning in her dark eyes. She should suspect the worst, but she couldn’t.

Deep down, she _knew_ there was only one way she had come out of the assault mostly unharmed. There was only _one person_ who might have saved her, the same man who had brought her onboard the star cruiser. The man in black by her side.

"Yes, and _no_. Have you ever found yourself in pursuit of the knowledge of your true heritage?"

"I--" she wanted to protest, to tell Vader she had never been curious.

_But it'd be a lie._

Leia had _always_ wondered. She loved her parents dearly, she couldn't imagine ever replacing them. Still, she wanted to know. Her parents had promised that one day it would be revealed, the full story and not just small bits and pieces regarding her mother; _her powerful presence, her wit._

The urge to unveil the information burned in her, made her ache for the answers. Vader couldn't _possibly_ know more than she, and yet something in the way he spoke made her insecure. 

What if he did know? What if _he_ had been the one to execute her parents? What if he knew all about their identities? What if _he_ knew who her father was, what if he would share? She knew he would be wise to trick her, and she would be wise not to believe one word he spoke. But something was screaming at her to seize the opportunity, and to use the situation to her advantage. 

"Yes," she finally admitted, "Papa says the truth will all be revealed one day, when I'm old enough."

Vader seemed to shift, his head turning towards her. The masked black tar pits of his eye-lenses bearing down on her. Once again, Leia felt the weight of his scrutiny; the ice cold aura he was exuding giving her goosebumps and chills. It was if the air was getting thicker, _difficult to breathe_.

"It was long ago revealed to me that senator Amidala had passed, at the hand of the man who loved her the most. It was told that she and her unborn child were lost. _A deplorable half truth_ , it appears."

Leia noted Vader curling his hands into tight fists again, even as she tried to make sense of everything. Still, it didn't take the girl long to understand. On some level, it was all so clear, _laid bare_. She knew Vader was known manipulate, all for his own gain. Was known to bend the truth to his will, when necessary. Yet, something about the statement, the revelation, resonated within her. 

Padmé Amidala. _Padmé_. The mere name made her feel warm, fuzzy; _loved_. A bond she'd never been aware existed. She knew in that moment that Padmé _must_ be her mother; knew what the woman had achieved during her lifetime. Knew she had been one of the most proficient women in the Galaxy before the rise of the Empire. She had been a close friend of Bail Organa. It all seemed to _obvious_.

" _Padmé_ was my mother," she breathed, mouthing the syllables silently one more time for herself; as a confirmation of sorts. "Wasn't she?"

"Yes."

"You knew her. When she was alive, you _knew her_."

Vader remained silent, an unspoken affirmation it seemed. Swallowing hard, Leia's mouth felt dry and woolen. She should be having a stronger reaction, on top of the previous trauma, but something soothed her. It was as if deep down, she'd always been aware, and she'd only needed it be confirmed. 

She understood now so clearly why her parents had spoken so often, in such high regard, of Padmé Amidala. It was all so clear. They had _never_ spoken of a husband, never of Padmé's personal intimate relationships. Never brought up a name that might fill in the blank as to who was Leia's biological _father_.

"What... about my father? Did you know him, _too_?"

Leia hesitated to ask, feeling a sudden shift in the atmosphere; Vader's mood changing. A sinking feeling came over her, creeping into her core; crawling underneath her skin. Prickling like a thousand needle pinpoints, making her curl up into a ball and shudder; aching and sore. So _cold_. 

The warmth of her mother's name and memory diminished fast, giving way for the sodden sensation of dread. It made her chest feel tight. She shut her eyes, shook her head. A revelation wanted to make itself known; the second presence in the room now playing on its familiar notes fully. A bond, so strong, like an electrical current. Like a flickering buzz, attempting to reach inside her head, _her soul_. 

The princess fought the sorrow welling up within, unable to fathom where it had risen from. She knew it was _not her own pain_ she was channeling, and as she slowly caved in to it; she realized it was _Vader's_. Vader's pain, Vader's sorrow. He didn't have to utter another word; the lump in her throat threatening to choke her.

"You... must have. You _did_. If you knew my mother. I _know_ you did."

"Yes."

It took too long before Vader's reply came, and if she hadn't known any better; Leia would have thought the man's mechanical tone to convey _vulnerability_. She shook off the strange insinuation, the uncomfortable churning at the pit of her stomach tightening. Ignored the still dull ache of her ankles, of her entire body after the manhandling. They wanted her to plead with them, she'd never have given them the satisfaction. 

In some sense, she was thankful towards Vader for at the very least sparing her her dignity. She glanced down at her own hands, regarding the broken nails. The caked blood still staining her fingertips. She wanted to ask for her father's name, for any further information. There was already a sensation of _belonging_ deep within. One that frightened her, as much as it intrigued her.

"Why did you save me?"

"They had for intention to take advantage of you. In an _abhorrent_ manner."

Vader's voice was direct, matter of fact. 

"What does that matter to _you_? They were part of _your_ Imperial forces, high ranking officers. I'm _nothing_ to you. Whatever they were planning on doing to me, it would _hardly_ affect your day. If anything, it might be of _use_ to you. To see me suffer. Surely, you would be condoning such behaviour."

"I am not the Emperor."

"I doubt your ambitions are any different."

"They are not. Yet, the Emperor would have been _most pleased_ to see you degraded in such a vile manner. I _do not_ condone such appalling notions. I have killed for _less_."

It was such a cold, blunt statement. Its honesty made Leia shiver, feeling overwhelmed. Of course, she knew what the men in mind. As soon as they ganged up on her, trapping her; surrounding her with their leering faces. 

_Vader had killed them_. She didn't have to ask to know it. He'd crushed their windpipes, every single one of them. The image of him committing the brutal act practically materialised in her head, as a visual memory that wasn't hers. To her own astonishment, the imagery thrilled her. She _rejoiced_ the fact that they were gone.

"I see."

Another silence, dragging on. Leia almost jumped up as one of the droids near the Caf station sprung to life with a shrieking noise; setting about a routine of preparing a mug. There was still no one else around, and as she glanced towards Vader; she was reminded of the fact that he would hardly have a drink made for himself. He hadn't moved, but somehow she _knew_ it was his doing. He had the strange powers of the Force, as her father had once whisperingly told her. Mystical telekinetic powers, remnants of the old Jedi religion. 

As the serving droid scurried towards her with the steaming beverage, she eyed it suspiciously but accepted nonetheless. She wasn't entirely sure how, but she just knew Vader could sense her gratitude. He was having an unprecedented mercy on her.

" _Thank you_ ," she mumbled quietly, not forgetting her manners despite the way in which her utterance went unacknowledged.

The girl hesitated, wanting to ask more. Anything so as not to think about sneers and dirty wolf whistles; hands reaching out for her, groping under her dress. Tearing fabric, smearing face paint. Licking her lips, she sipped on her Caf.

"Is it because of my mother? That you saved me."

"Yes."

"What was she to you?"

" _Everything_."

Leia expected no response, and she looked up in surprise. The longer she spent in the same room, alone with him, the less wary of him she became. She couldn't merge the image of Vader striking down her father’s fellow rebel fighters with this man; the man who had avenged her honour, the man who for some reason _couldn't bear_ to see her assaulted. His aura was still chilling, but less so. More melancholy and sullen than angry. The honesty behind that one utterance made Leia's heart sink.

"They cannot touch you, _Child_ ," Vader said as if on cue. "Nobody will. I shall take it upon _myself_ to see to that."

As if he could somehow tap into her mind, he knew what to say to calm her. She understood then that the buzzing inside her skull was his doing, was . Just as her father had warned her. The idea didn't make her quite as uncomfortable as it should have. The way in which the man spoke the word ' _child_ ' seemed somehow gentle, fond almost. Despite the forced booming vocalization, there was some sort of affection to it.

" _I know_."

"Yes. Then, you must also know the full truth. You must understand why."

Vader turned his head towards her then; and she felt his covered eyes piercing her. She swallowed hard, cradling the mug close to her chest. As if its warmth might keep her safe from the sorrow, the darkness that the man was emulating. Was he doing it on purpose? Did he have control over this dark aura? Or was it simply the air about him, the oppressive feeling he seemed to carry with him. Its intensity swelled, making Leia's fingers numb; prickling as if submerged in icy cold water. 

Then, little by little, the despair and dread gave way. Began to dissipate; to fade. Less overpowering. 

Leia shut her eyes again, braced herself. Exhaled. Let him in, let the buzzing surge overpower her, _overwhelm her senses_. Let that bond between them - the one that felt so distinctly like home - blossom. Eyes watering, but refusing to shed a single tear. 

The visage of Padmé before her inner vision, her mother. A woman with sad hazel eyes, and long dark hair matching Leia’s own. And beside Padmé, _her_ father. 

Leia knew it before Vader spoke up. She knew what he was about to say, and could only accept it. She saw sandy brown curls, soft blue eyes. She saw a cocky smirk, one reminiscent of her own in her more embarrassing, overconfident moments. Belonging to a man, _a Jedi_. Cradling her mother close, promising to love her forever. _Anakin_ , murmured her mother softly.

" _You_ are Anakin Skywalker," Leia gasped, eyes flying wide open.

"That was a long time ago. That name no longer holds any meaning to me."

" _You_ are my father," Leia breathed, trembling as if she hadn't registered his denial of his own identity.

Vader didn't speak, but still she heard a voice inside her mind's eye; one so different from the powerful mechanical vocals. She _knew_ it belonged to Vader. _To her father._

" _Yes_ ," it spoke.


	2. Getting to Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt odd saying it. _Father_.

It felt odd saying it. _Father_. 

Leia had never called her adoptive father, Bail Organa, that. He had always been _Papa_ , or even Daddy. Never father. It felt so formal, so distant. But then again, there was a distance between herself and Vader. Leia mouthed the word silently, she had yet to speak it aloud. Tasting it on her tongue. She’d avoided any situation in which she might need to address Vader by name, or title, or familiars. It felt so foreign, yet she knew he expected a proper conversation from her.

She could feel it in the atmosphere, long before he even entered the dorm room. Apparently, this had originally been an officer's quarters - Leia suspected she already knew what fate might have befallen the poor bastard. Vader wasn't known to be the forgiving kind. Still, she was thankful for a fresh change of clothes; albeit a washed out, grey Imperial commander getup four sizes too big for her. She folded the ankle cuffs up a couple of times, as well as rolling the sleeves up over her elbows. Braided her waist length hair into a simple fish braid, tied off with a throwaway snippet of cable wire she'd found rummaging through the nooks and crannies of the flat. Bedroom, lunchroom with a screen providing holonet connection that she hadn't tried out yet. Bathroom.

Leia knew she should be more upset than she was. Part of her still felt uncomfortable, violated. But only in regards to the officers - she suspected this very room may have belonged to one of them, which made her wince in displeasure. Not regarding Vader. He had been nothing but hospitable towards her, giving her the space she needed. The time she needed to accept his revelation. She put on her boots - glad _they_ were at least intact. Sighing softly, she finished off her mug of caf, sitting by the bedside as she waited patiently for the arrival of Vader. Her _father_.

There was no ceremonious knocking or forewarning; no holo message from Vader acknowledging he was entering. All she heard was an electrical tick, and the whooshing hiss of the automatic doors to her quarters sliding open. There he stood, clad in the same black attire. Cape falling over his broad shoulders, the dim light reflected in the lenses of his face plate. Giving them a reddish tint. Swallowing hard, Leia felt her mouth go dry and she quickly sprung to her feet out of habit. She had been taught how to properly salute Imperials, and it was deeply rooted by now. She gave a nod of courtesy, but in this instance, it was genuine rather than a mocking gesture.

"You may sit," said Vader, motioning with his arm in a wide gesture.

Leia hesitated, eyes darting between Vader and the bunk bed she'd just been poised on. But she did as told, straightening out her coat and keeping her head held high. Never letting her gaze wander from his mask. She wished she could see his eyes, wondered what colour they were underneath the metal and mechanics. The vision had told her they’d been _blue_ , once.

"You are feeling more at ease."

"Yes," Leia agreed, folding her hands over her lap.

Vader didn't say another word, as he took a couple of long strides into the small hallway. His steps heavy and determined, the sliding doors shutting behind him. He towered over everything, making the room feel tiny and claustrophobic as his domed helmet almost brushed the ceiling. The same proud posture as the first time she'd encountered him. In a fluid motion, he put his hands on his belt. Quiet, except for the breaths of his respirator. So, this was her father. He gave the room a small look around, but remained in place.

It took a long moment of a heavy, nearly oppressive silence for Leia to realize that Vader wasn't going to say anything else - until she made the first move. Licking her lips, she searched for whatever question may be adequate to ask first. She found they were all jumbled together, overwhelming her. Sent her head reeling, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to calm herself down as best as she could. Papa had taught her that, and it always helped her relax in times of stress or anxiousness. Then, she knew exactly what to ask.

"Why did Papa never tell me about you?"

She almost regretted addressing Bail Organa that way, but when Vader didn't flinch, she let her tense shoulders slump just a bit. Surely, he _too_ must understand that it would be difficult for her to just turn on a dime and use her adoptive father's birth name out of nowhere.

Another pause, as if Vader was hesitant to speak; but as soon as he did, the booming voice gave Leia goose pimples.

"I suspect he did not wish for you to know."

That made more sense than it should, and Leia blushed in embarrassment at how ridiculously simple that answer should have been to figure out by herself. Squirming, she hummed in agreement and peered down at her own feet.

"Papa meant to keep us separated," she breathed.

"Indeed. The Emperor informed me long ago that your mother had perished. It appears he was speaking half truths. We have _both_ been fooled, and led astray."

Leia worried her still sore bottom lip with her teeth; she didn't particularly approve of the comparison between Papa and the Emperor, but she would be blind to deny the statement.

"He used to talk about my mother. He told me she was kind, but determined."

Desperate to lead the conversation away from Papa, Leia hoped that the mention of her birth mother would help. But at the same time, there were so many things she wished to know about Padmé. About the woman Darth Vader had loved.

"She was _beautiful_. You resemble her very much," said Vader, with a tinge of sorrow that the girl had never expected to hear coming from him.

The visual image of her mother once again floated into her head. Padmé Amidala; clad in an elaborate navy blue dress. Wearing her dark hair in neat buns at the sides of her head; her hazel eyes full of excitement and weariness alike. Her pale skin sun-kissed, beauty marks visible on her cheekbones. Leia could feel the that _warmth_ again; the sensation of being loved so dearly. She wondered if that was Vader's feelings towards Padmé, or Padmé's feeling towards him being channeled. Or perhaps, even their mutual love for her. The specter of Padmé, conjured by Vader's memory, placed one small hand over her belly. Over the noticeable baby bump, and Leia felt a lump forming at the base of her throat.

Blinking rapidly, the image faded. Gone was her mother's stunning visage; replaced by the looming shadow of a figure that was her father. He stood silent, arms now folded across his chest; hands curled tightly into his forearms. She could feel it; the pain. The agony of sharing that memory with her. Leia felt almost honoured, in some way.

"I was a surprise. But you wanted me. You _both_ did."

She already knew that was true, and needed no confirmation. Once again, there was that buzz probing at the back of her mind. Asking for permission, rather than simply pushing past her defenses. With her doe eyes scrutinizing Vader's masked face - in vain searching for something to reveal his emotional state - she allowed him access. Let him roam her innermost thoughts, had some sort of confidence that he wouldn't go too far. That he wouldn't extract anything she wasn't comfortable with him knowing.

It was an intimate sharing of a bond, a connection Leia had never known was possible to form. She felt cold, Vader's psyche connecting to hers like a blunt dagger before becoming gentler. Perhaps, he didn't know how to do this in a softer manner. Still, what had been a sort of throbbing dull ache mulling in Leia's temples, became a clucking stream of clear water. She saw that man again, the man she knew was Anakin Skywalker. _Anakin_ , before he donned the title of Darth Vader. _Anakin_ , who had been so thrilled to become a father.

She saw his piercing blue eyes, saw his shaggy golden mop of hair. Saw his coy smile, the same she had initially recognized in herself. She could see the resemblance between them. Could feel Anakin's strong impulses, his convictions. Brash, assertive, daring. Once again, Leia felt embarrassed of herself, knowing that _that_ was the way she had often been described by her adoptive mother Breha; both as a compliment and a warning to watch out for trouble. Still, as Anakin's tender gaze burnt into her mind's eye, she felt the sting of sorrow and pain return.

"Your adoptive parents were kind to you," said Vader finally, the tendrils of his mystical powers withdrawing little by little.

"Yes," Leia almost gasped.

Her head felt heavy, dizzy. She took a moment to recompose herself, thankful for Vader watching her silently, patiently. Glad that he wasn't forcing anything on her, that he was demanding she understand him, and his ways of dealing with the Empire's business. Focusing, Leia remembered Papa's stories. _Vader cannot be trusted_ , he'd say. Yet, she saw no reason not to trust him. Not when he had exposed such vulnerable memories to her.

"Does the Emperor know? About me?"

This was something Leia dreaded, something she needed to get out of the way. Surely, the Emperor wouldn't enjoy the idea of Darth Vader having a daughter. Surely, he'd be displeased, perhaps try to tear them apart. She didn't know exactly what to expect, but she was still afraid of the man in power. She'd heard enough to know that if Vader was dreaded, the Emperor was a terror. The mere thought of him sent icy chills down her spine. It was as if Vader had picked up on her worries before she even worded them, as if he too was fearful of how the Emperor may handle the situation.

"No. And I do not intend to inform him. He would not let you go unscathed."

"Would he kill me?"

"No. He would want to train you, to make you strong with the Force. He would replace me with you, once he'd made you a weapon of the Dark Side."

"But I don't know anything about the Force!" Leia threw her hands out in exasperation, eyes wide with fear.

She hadn't considered what a menace the Emperor may be. Or how the Empire might react to her and Vader being family. Or how Papa would feel when she confronted him with her newfound knowledge regarding her own heritage. She felt her heart hammering against her rib cage, despair welling up inside as her face paled. Frantic eyes scanning the lenses of Vader's face plate.

"That is incorrect. The Force is strong with you, _Little One_. I have felt it, as have you."

"No, I can't do any of the things you do with your strange powers."

"And what is it that I do, which you cannot?"

"I - lift things, move objects. Use it to - to _hurt_ people. You used those invisible powers when you killed those officers," Leia trailed off, looking away; stubbornly pushing the dirty feeling associated with that encounter to the back of her mind. "The way you put images in my head, when we speak. I can't do any of that."

"You can. It is because of your connection to the Force that you can respond to them. You would not let me invade your senses unaware. Had you not been sensitive to the Force, you would not have been able to tap into the bond. Or to resist me."

"It's because you're my father, isn't it."

The question was rhetorical, and for the first time, Leia found herself surprised to see Vader almost flinch. There was a small, almost nonexistent quiver to his shoulders. Had she not been so fixed on him, she would have missed it. And she felt the aura of his guilt. 

Was _this_ the Force? Was this what Vader meant when he said she could tap into it as well, the fact that she'd always been good at reading the atmosphere around her through her senses? Mama Breha had told Leia she must have a sixth sense; with the way she was able to foretell or expect things to happen long before they did. Did Mama know that she had these strange powers, too? Had Papa known when he spoke badly of Vader's telekinetic mind powers, teaching her to be wary of the Force; to _fear_ it? Had he known, and wanted to keep her away from honing her own skills with it?

"Yes," said Vader, after a long moment. "Before the Jedi betrayed the Emperor, during the days of the Clone Wars, Anakin Skywalker was strong with the Force. But naive. He was _weak_. Only with the Dark Side, could he gain _true_ power."

"What _is_ the Dark Side?"

Leia felt the cold seeping underneath her skin as soon as she finished the sentence; as if the temperature of the room was drastically dropping. Fingertips slowly going numb, prickling from the icy sensations of the freezing air around her. Her cheeks going red, and when she exhaled her breath came out as a puff of condensation. Her chin began to wobble, uncontrollably. Curling her hands into tight fists, before she flexed her fingers. So cold. So dark, and void, and _unforgiving_. It was frightening, and it was only then that she realized the terrifying darkness was radiating from Vader.

"It's so cold."

There was no response, but as easily as it had seeped into Leia's very bones; the oppressive chill was gone. Her body getting warmer, all sensation returning to her fingers. Her chest heaving, never wishing to experience that dark, bleak void of emptiness again. It made her feel _trapped_ , even as it dissipated into nothingness. Was Vader going to make her suffer that torment again? Was this what the Emperor would expect of her, if he were to learn of her existence?

"Do you wish to learn the ways of the Force?" asked Vader suddenly, his powerful tone almost startling Leia.

Wincing, she snapped back to reality. Back to the here and now. Swallowing and biting down the lump that was back in her throat, she rubbed her clammy palms against her thighs.

"I... do I _have_ to?"

"If the Force wills it."

It was a cryptic, unsatisfying reply.

"Will I ever see Papa and Mama again?"

She didn't know where it had come from, but the sinking feeling at the pit of Leia's belly was _screaming_ at her that she never would. That she would be taken away from them, to spend an eternity elsewhere with Vader. What did Vader know of being a father? Would he even be capable of expressing any love openly? The only affection she had received - while still surging through their supposed bond - was unspoken, emotional, invisible.

"Do you wish to?"

Leia hadn't expected that either, eyes wide and eyebrows raising in shock. She almost gaped, head snapping up. She could sense no malice, nothing about his aura - the Force? - that spoke of deceit. What was she expected to say? Yes? That she very much would? No? Was she supposed to _lie_? Would he _know_ if she lied to him? Would his strange affection towards her disappear if she rejected him?

"I... if you'd let me. Just to - to see them. If you want to take me away, I just want to... say goodbye."

It was only then she realized how final this was. That this might be the end of her life on Alderaan, the end of her life with the Organas. The people who had raised her, and loved her, and nurtured her. She needed closure, hands trembling against her will. Eyes almost watering, but she refused to give in to that. She wouldn't cry, not in front of Vader. Not in front of anybody.

"I shall see to it. The Emperor must not know of our connection," stated Vader simply. "It is to be concealed, for now."

With those words, Vader turned on his heel to stride towards the doorway. Another hissing noise, as they parted for him to walk through. Only then did Leia realize he was going to leave her alone again. She didn't know whether she wanted him to go, or if she wanted him to stay. She wasn't sure if she wanted company or solitude. Hesitating, she got up on her feet; hurrying after him on wobbly legs. Decided she _wanted_ to follow him.

"Wait," she pleaded, and the dark figure stopped immediately in his tracks.

She would have thought he wouldn't hear her, but she felt the lingering confusion, the hope buried deep beneath the surface rolling off of him in waves. It made feel warm inside, blocking out the last remnants of that dark void she'd been introduced to.

"I... can I come with you? Anywhere. _Anywhere but here_ ," she almost stuttered, hanging her head as she waited for his reply.

"Very well. We shall be docking soon, perhaps you would not mind accompanying me to the command bridge."

"Wouldn't that... be dangerous?"

"No one will notice," said Vader, back turned towards her still; and Leia believed him.

She just didn't want to think of the implications it gave. He waited no further, as he began to walk again; settling into a casual but quick paced stride. Dignified, carrying himself with some sort of menacing confidence. It clashed with the inner struggles Leia could sense he was still suppressing underneath the surface. Still, as she half jogged to keep up with his pace; she didn't complain. It didn't feel awkward or strange, to be in his presence. As long as she didn't dwell on the cold, or what she knew he had done to get where he was; it was alright.

"Thank you, Father," she finally spoke, and she meant it.

Suddenly, the word felt much less charged. It felt natural, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to call him. Father, father, _father_. _Father_. Vader didn't budge, didn't falter, but there was a serene shift to the air. Something calm, and soothing, and peaceful. Something filling the harrowing, empty void from before. The beeping of his chest monitor, echoing of his boots against the pristine floors; steady breaths of his respirator. She felt _safe_ with him. 

Leia thought he'd leave it at that. Then, he finally spoke. A tenderness she didn't think possible to his tone; as soft spoken as the vocoder could be.

" _Daughter_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two; in which Leia gets to know a bit more about her father. I hope you enjoy where it's going!


	3. Words Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know what. Why didn't you tell me Darth Vader is my father?"

"Why did you never tell me?"

The blue tinted holo message flickered briefly, as if the connection was faltering; but Leia could see Papa's expression. She hadn't even said hello, hadn't even replied to him asking her whether she was alright. Asking where she was, why she hadn't left them a message from her shuttle telling them she was staying off planet. She was only thirteen, after all.

"Tell you about what?" asked Papa, voice wavering and he seemed hesitant; _strained_.

His face looked grim, as if he had aged ten years in five days. The bags beneath his hollowed out bloodshot eyes more pronounced, his silvery grey temples standing out against his unusually disheveled dark hair. Even his normally crisp attire seemed rumpled and unflattering. His face eerily gaunt, as if he'd gotten little to no sleep. Leia felt a pang of guilt, knew he must have been worried sick about her. But she was still upset, still angry. Even more so now, when she was seeing his face; reminded of the fact that the people she'd called her parents had lied to her her entire life.

For a brief moment, Leia paused. 

Her gaze wavering, and her courage with it. She clasped her hands, teething her lower lip. It wasn't too late to back out, but one glance towards the automatic sliding doors set her back on track. _Father_ was waiting outside, had given her the courtesy of allowing her to speak to her adoptive parents in private, uninterrupted. It was something she appreciated, although she could sense that he wasn't pleased with the decision. She hadn't realized until then just how _insecure_ the towering figure clad in black was beneath the mask. The aura - _his Force signature? Was that what he'd called it?_ \- was so heavily charged, so overpowering that it almost gave Leia a headache.

"You know what. Why didn't you tell me Darth Vader is my father?"

That spurred a reaction. 

Leia watched as all the colour drained from Papa's already ashen cheeks. His anxious, furrowed brow replaced by pure horror. She noticed how his hands were gripping tightly at the bottom hem of his vest. Realized he was afraid, not just that Vader would punish him, but for _her_ sake. Still, Leia said nothing. She was at least thankful that she was out of the too big Imperial suit; wearing a much more appropriate, simple teal blue jumpsuit. She had no idea where Father had retrieved it, but she was grateful for that, too. She couldn't fathom why Papa would be terrified. She was of course well aware of whose company she was in, but _surely_ Papa must be able to tell she was unharmed? That she was _safe_?

"Leia, where are you?" Papa finally breathed, eyes darting wildly all around despite Leia knowing he couldn't see her surroundings.

“You won’t like it.”

“Just tell me!”

The rising panic in Papa’s voice had Leia shaken.

"Vader's Imperial shuttle," she finally responded.

"Honey, you _have_ to get off that ship immediately! Vader--"

"Vader won't harm me! And you still haven't explained why you didn't tell me!"

She couldn't hold herself back as she snapped, cutting Papa off mid sentence. Who was he to tell her what to do? She missed him, her heart aching for him and Mama, but at the same time; it was painful how little faith Papa had in Father. Leia knew she was safe here, she could _feel_ it. She could feel the love, even through any turmoil Father may be experiencing. After all, despite what little they had spoken, he had revealed the fact that he'd thought her dead.

And despite the fact that he hadn’t professed it aloud, Leia could feel through their strange bond how _devastated_ Vader had been to learn not only of her mother’s death, but of what he’d assumed was hers, too. How desperate he had been to become her father, despite knowing next to nothing of raising a small child. Despite never having known a father of his own. It made her feel important, and special.

"Leia, we never told you because we needed to _protect you_. We were entrusted with keeping you in hiding, we couldn't conceive and adopting you was a blessing. We always wanted a daughter, you know that."

She watched Papa's brow furrow again, watched as he ran a hand through his matted hair. He was frustrated, she could tell. He had begun to pace back and forth on spot. It made Leia herself uneasy, and she glanced towards the still shut doorway. Faintly, she could hear the distant sound of Vader's breathing mechanism coming from the other side. She wondered for how long he'd have the patience to remain disentangled.

"Vader thought I was dead. That I died with my mother," Leia mumbled, peering up from beneath her dark lashes.

Papa stopped then, she heard him sigh even through the hologram. Saw his shoulders slump. She'd never seen him anything but proud, and straight forward. She'd seen his confidence, the way in which he carried himself with his head held high. Now, he seemed so lost. So small, so frail.

"I know. That's what we _wanted_ him to believe. He's _dangerous_ , Leia. He's killed thousands of people."

“I know.”

“You’re not safe with him.”

Papa’s eyes were pleading.

Still, Leia pursed her lips, narrowing her own in turn. She knew that was what Papa had always told her; that Vader was a monster. With no regards for life itself, incapable of feeling love. Yet, through their strange bond; Leia felt the affection. She _knew_ Papa was wrong, had _always_ been wrong. Despite being unable to see Father's face, she felt like she knew a part of him nobody else did. Even after such a short amount of time. Was that because of the Force? Or was it simply because she knew he would have loved her from first moment, given the opportunity? 

"You knew I'm Force sensitive."

Papa hesitated, gaze wavering and darting aside. The girl noticed the harsh expression. The point of no return.

"Yes, yes we did. But if we'd allowed you to hone your craft, Vader might have--"

"Vader might have found me," Leia finished the sentence, voice colder than she'd intended.

"We just wanted what was best for you. Breha and I love you," he was swallowing visibly, his adam's apple bobbing and his dark eyes unusually glassy - _watery_?

Doubt came creeping in with that realization. Like a slow, sinking feeling at the pit of Leia's stomach, her head suddenly light. Her chest felt taut with pressure, and she squeezed her fists tightly. Counting silently to three in her head, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Letting the atmosphere clear her mind. Just like Papa had once taught her.

"I won't leave," she finally said.

The determination was amplified, once she'd said those words out loud. Despite Papa's look of abandon, the way his face fell. For a moment, Leia was afraid that he may cry. If he did, so would _she_. She knew that much. She’d never seen him even teary eyed before. She watched in terrified silence, at a loss for words; wondering whether she should even say anything at all. Then, Papa straightened up. His eyes were as puffy as his cheeks.

"He's going to hurt you."

" _No_. I can't explain it, but I've sensed it. He'd never hurt me." Leia said those words with a strong internal conviction. "He's already saved me once."

"Saved you? I don't understand," said Papa, throwing his arms out with a confused look.

"He - it doesn't matter. I have to go, I'll be seeing you in person soon. Fa - _Vader_ has ensured I'll return to you, eventually. At least for a short while. So we won't raise the Emperor's suspicion."

"How would you go about not raising any suspicion? You're _right under the Emperor's nose_ , Leia! If he finds out about you, you're--" he stopped himself, clenching his jaw. " _Please_. Vader is going to get you killed... or worse."

"I have to stay. But I'll come to see you. I will, _soon_ ," Leia promised; and she could tell Papa had more the wanted to say.

She just couldn't deal with it right now, though, dismissing the notion that she might die completely. Instead, she disconnected the holo message and watched as the see-through image of Papa vanished. She blinked a couple of times, tipping her head back. The room felt cramped and oppressing; grey on grey in every direction. No contrast colours, all bland and lifeless. Dull. She missed the golden, richly ornamented hallways of the palace on Alderaan. Missed Mama's laughter, missed Papa's cringe-worthy jokes. Missed the _ordinary family life_. There were no memories here, nothing she could hold on to. A clean slate, and it terrified her.

A slow whooshing noise, and the hydraulic sliding doors gave way. Leia didn't turn around, didn't look up. The steady breathing of Father's respirator creating a humming echo, as the sound bounced off the walls. Tucking a couple of loose dark baby hairs behind her ears, Leia did her best to calm herself down. To recollect herself. She didn't want to hurt anyone, didn't want to feel that dark, deep void Father had introduced her to earlier. She'd realized that when he was displeased, or in turmoil, he'd fall back into that cold place. As if it nurtured and kept him alive.

"Was your conversation fulfilling?"

Vader's voice would have been soft, had the vocoder possessed the ability to speak tenderly. Yet, Leia felt the genuine _concern_ bleed through their bond. She smiled sadly, and shook her head.

"No. Just... a lot of excuses."

"As would be expected. Organa would _never_ admit to failure."

“I’d just… hoped for something. Anything.”

“As is understandable.”

There was a ball of tears forming at the back of Leia's throat. Because, despite her wanting desperately to believe Papa may come around, she knew he _wouldn't_. She knew he was part of the Rebellion, or at least involved with the alliance somehow. She knew he detested Father, he'd never approve of her relationship with him. Her eyes stung, and she couldn't keep them from watering. Despite her stubborn attempts at restraining her tears, they spilled down her flushed cheeks. She was just glad she still had her back turned towards Father. He must think her pathetic, must be able to feel her despair as sharp as she felt his suffering.

"You are mourning."

It was a simple statement, and Leia couldn't help but let out a choked chuckle. It was almost funny, how _inadequate_ the comment was. How Father seemed completely unaware and unable to read the situation accordingly, or at least react the proper way. As if _he_ was the teen, and _she_ the adult.

"It doesn't matter. Not anymore," she sniffled, restraining the urge to sob.

“It matters to _you_.”

Father wasn’t wrong. Leia knew as much, but she couldn’t respond. She simply gave a weak, halfhearted shrug. Her throat was already strained enough, she didn’t need to try to speak aloud. She wanted to save herself the embarrassment of having her voice crack, or waver. Papa had told her Father knew no sense of compassion, carried _no sympathy_. He’d told stories of Father unceremoniously dismembering and dispatching what he deemed to be feeble, cowardly enemies. Enemies who wept and pleaded, begging for their lives. Enemies who were _defenseless_. Allies, who bore the same nonredeemable qualities. Shaking her head, she refused to think about that.

Silence. 

Thick, suffocating, awkward. Father’s breaths, Leia’s sniffles. Anxiously tapping her fingers against the sides of her thighs; Leia attempted anything to calm herself down. To distract herself from growing unease. Was Father _ashamed_ of her? Would he think her unfit? Unworthy of his time? Of his affection? If he disowned her, what would happen to her? _To Papa_? 

Leia had stubbornly taught herself to resist breaking down in public, she’d made herself hard and stone faced. She’d lost too many friends, even at her tender age, to allow herself to grieve openly. Sometimes, though, behind closed doors; she might break down. Might bury her face in the pillows and cry her heart out. Sometimes her parents would find her in tears, would offer their soothing comfort. But Leia never broke when they were directly around. Never when she had eyes on her, especially eyes as judgmental as Father’s.

“I’ll be alright,” she finally managed to force out, compelling her tone to remain as level as possible.

There was still a quivering note to it, and the guilt was back. The girl had always felt inexplicably undeserving of her own tears, her own sorrows. She’d been raised in a life of luxury, of royal embellishment. She’d always felt she didn’t _deserve_ to feel tormented; not when she had riches, parents who loved her, servants, close acquaintances, anything she could ever ask for. Now, reality was slipping through her fingers. And she was torn.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she finally felt confident the worst was over. The lump at the base of her throat was receding, her tiny hands coming up to wipe at her tear streaked puffy cheeks. Using her sleeves to discreetly dab at her red nose. And she would have been okay, would have been able to put her facade back up again - _had Father not touched her_.

It was no grand gesture of kindness. Not the gentle, cooing whispers of Mama stroking her hair. Not the warm, secure embrace of Papa kissing the top of her head. She couldn’t nuzzle into it; it was too awkward. Too stilted, as if it was something Father had never known how to get right. Had _he_ ever been properly comforted? Or had he simply _forgotten_ what it was like to be vulnerable? 

Either way, his large gloved hand was suddenly resting on her little shoulder. It was loose, almost hovering as if he was afraid any further contact may do more harm than good. The hand was cold, the chill bleeding through the neck piece of the overalls and Leia instantly knew there could be no flesh beneath the fabric. _Only cybernetics, and crude imitations_. 

Leia bit her bottom lip. Clenched her jaw. The hand remained. 

It was both a threat and a comfort. She braced herself, once again counting to three. Still, the bridge of her nose burnt. Still, her eyes stung and prickled with fresh tears. Giving in - _unable to fight back_ \- she looked up only to be blinded by the sterile lights reflected in her own tears. The pathetic whimper that left her throat made her blush in mortification; but the pain in her chest was overwhelming. Leia could barely breathe, gasping for air. Had she ever experienced such grief? She couldn’t remember. 

Some floating, faraway memory from the loss of a loved one fluttered through her mind. _'Leia,'_ murmured in a weak, female voice. So affectionate, but fading rapidly. Was it Mother'a voice? Was the sense of belonging, of someone watching over her ever since she’d been an infant Mother's spirit all along?

Blindly, the girl’s tiny hand reached upwards. Fumbled around. She wouldn’t expect Father to take her in his arms, or to murmur sweet nothings until she had healed enough to put herself back together. Still, her trembling fingers brushed his large, hesitant hand. She noticed him _flinch_ , just a tad, at the initial contact. Felt the uncertainty through their bond. So, there were at least _some_ sort of sensory replicates in the manufactured limb. A bit braver, Leia rested her hand atop his, at first tense and insecure but soon she became calmer; putting some weight into the touch. She was surprised to notice that he did the same, his fingertips pressing faintly against her collarbone area. 

They stood as if frozen in time. Listening to the air conditioning system, to the beeping holo screens. To the mechanical inhales and exhales. Leia matched hers to them, and little by little, the anxiousness of her despair began to let go of her. She pressed her palm to the back of Father’s hand. Wanting to reassure him that the contact was appreciated, that it was _allowed_. She felt Father withdraw, at first almost dreading losing the contact; expecting him to completely pull away. Instead, his palm lingered, his fingers closing _incredibly cautiously_ around her small hand. As if she were made of porcelain. Leia knew Papa would have never credited Father with such caring gentleness.

Clinging to the bridge between them, Leia clutched right back at him. She sniffed, but her sniffles were dry now. Her eyes feeling itchy and sore. Once again, she used her free hand to swipe at the residue wetness. Rubbed at her nose with the sleeve, cleared her hoarse throat. 

“Do you wish to remain on Alderaan?”

Father’s voice was booming, like a shock to the system. Leia’s ears so used to the silence, that the sudden noise made them ring. She gave Father’s hand another soft, reassuring squeeze before she felt it finally slip away. The moment was gone, the magic broken. Leia gave her face another thorough scrub of cloth, before she turned halfway around to peer over her shoulder.

Father had both arms slack at his sides, head only slightly bent downwards. Waiting for her response, as if he was _expecting_ her to say yes. Leia herself would have expected to say yes, to jump of joy. That’s why her own eyes widened in shock, when she finally spoke without thinking.

“No.”

“Are you certain, Little One?” Father implored, surprisingly offering just one more chance to come around and make the wisest decision.

However, Leia had never been one to follow anything but _her heart_.

“Yes,” was all she could respond, and there was _no hesitation_ behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's part three where Leia finally gets a small chance to confront her adoptive father and call him out on his leaving the truth out. Hope you enjoy! Also, Vader is trying to be a good dad.


	4. All Shall Be Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father _knew_ she was there.
> 
> Leia was certain he could feel her presence, despite her well thought out hiding spot. The same could not be said for Papa; who anxiously waited at the other end of the landing platform. Crouching behind a couple of freight boxes, stacked with spare parts, scraps and cargo; Leia was beginning to second guess her decision.

Father _knew_ she was there.

Leia was certain he could feel her presence, despite her well thought out hiding spot. The same could not be said for Papa; who anxiously waited at the other end of the landing platform. Crouching behind a couple of freight boxes, stacked with spare parts, scraps and cargo; Leia was beginning to second guess her decision. 

Father had promised not to hurt Papa, and despite the things she knew he was capable of; nothing in his connection to her through the Force had spoken of deception or untruth. She couldn't be assured that Papa might not stay true to his promise; and she knew the outcome would not favour him would he attempt to lash out, no matter what he might be hoping for.

Smoothing out her crisp, white Imperial suite; she tucked a couple of loose strands of hair behind her ears. The sun of the early Alderaan daybreak already warmed her back as it rose over the horizon; making Papa's silver temples gleam and stand out in the golden sunlight.

Father stood poised opposite him, not far from where the Imperial shuttle he had arrived in was docked. While Papa held his hands neatly folded in front of his hips out of royal courtesy, back straight; ever the well mannered viceroy - Father matched his unwavering dignity; head held high for the beams of the rising sun to reflect off of his domed helmet. Unusually patient; thumbs hooked into the sides of his belt. Papa was scowling; squinting against the bright morning light. Father's face plate was cast in shadow; the gentle, cool forenoon breeze making his regal black cape swirl faintly around his boots. 

It was a stalemate.

Leia attempted to make herself even smaller; creeping up close to the nearest large durasteel canister container, the cold sensation of crude metal bleeding through the sleeve of her thick jacket piece. She made sure she had just enough space to peer out through a nearby crevice; to keep the two men on the hangar in full view. She noticed Papa's grim; _haunted_ expression. His hollowed out dark eyes; the sagging jowls at the corners of his lips. Lips that were now drawn into a thin line. He looked gaunt, restless and exhausted.

When it became clear that Father would not be the first to break the heavy, dragging silence; Leia noted how Papa sighed quietly. His broad shoulders heaving, and he took a couple of slow, calculated steps towards Father; head held low in some sort of subservience. Leia knew it was all an act, and it made her feel uncomfortable. Papa had never had any respect for Father. If anything, he believed Father should be the one bowing down and accepting the error of his ways; by supporting the Empire.

"Lord Vader. It is a pleasure to offer you our humble hospitality," said Papa, voice strong and confident - despite the doubt flickering in his dark eyes.

"I am not here to allow myself to be _mocked_ by your false courtesy, viceroy," Vader bit back; his retort venomous and getting straight to the point. "I am here on behalf of my daughter, the child you so selfishly _stole_ from me."

Papa flinched, clenching his jaw. Leia knew that meant he was either irate, afraid; or both. She shuffled slightly closer, her doe eyed gaze darting back and forth between Father's face plate that was still drenched in shade, and Papa's sunkissed aging features.

"I know as much. I assumed you would prefer me to be adequately modest, though."

"I prefer _honesty_ , over hollow pretenses. I am here in hope of finding some answers. I demand an explanation for your selfish, cruel decision to hide my child from me."

"You're dangerous. Both to yourself, and to her. _Especially her_ , considering who the Emperor truly is, your stance with him, and what he is capable of. You know that, and you know that you're placing her in harm's way just by recognizing her mere existence."

"That is not for you to decide."

“With all due respect, Lord Vader, I have raised her all her life. I know what does and does not pose a danger to my daughter.”

“She is not yours to claim.”

“Neither is she _yours_. You may have sired her, but I and Breha taught her to speak, to walk, to be the person she is today. None of that comes from you.”

“You and the Queen stole her from me, and paraded unjustly as your child.”

Father’s tone was louder now, and Leia could sense the underlying threat simmering beneath the surface before he even spoke up.

“I had no choice. Padmé wouldn’t have wanted her to be a part of your lenience, just as little as she would have wanted to see you where you are.”

Father moved then as he visibly snapped; going from a stoic gargoyle of stone looming over the platform, to an approaching menace. The mention of her birth mother’s name - _Padmé_ \- always seemed to trigger him, and make him mentally unstable. As little time as she had spent with him, she had noticed as much. She hoped Father would make an exception just this once, on her behalf.

Still, she watched as he took a couple of long, intent strides until he halted right in front of Papa. Papa's brow was twitching; and Leia watched him clench his hands into the bottom hem of his overcoat. She knew he was expecting death, that he was expecting Father to end him so as to claim her only for himself. But Father had _promised not to harm Papa_ \- but the way he was looming over Papa was ominous.

"Had I not assured my daughter that you would not be harmed; you would not live to see another day, viceroy. You would be wise to never again speak _that name_ aloud in my presence, or to insinuate you are not loyal to the regime. Now, I request yet again for you to expose to me the truth of your scheme."

Father's voice was booming; powerful and tinged with an unspeakable rage. Leia could almost touch the aura from her hiding spot; could feel the waves of burning, livid fury pour off of Father. They rolled over her like tidal waves, and the cold tendrils of the Dark Side they brought with them made her shudder and freeze. The icy sensation coloured her cheeks rosy; made her skin prickle despite the warm weather. She despised it, but she couldn't blame Father. She too felt betrayed; despite being more devastated and pained than enraged.

"After... after you turned to the Dark Side, after what you did to the Jedi Temple, to the younglings... after how you'd attempted to kill Obi Wan, and Pad-- _your wife_ , we had no choice."

"I did not kill Padmé," Father snarled, pointing one index finger right at Papa's face to intimidate, and Leia watched as Papa shrunk back just a little. “She lived.”

"Yes, but only for a short while. After childbirth, she had no wish to go on. We could not save her, no medical equipment would assist us in keeping her alive. Not even her own child could keep bind her to this world."

"So you _took the child_."

"We protected her. It was mine and Obi Wan's decision to have her raised here, on Alderaan. I and Breha had always wanted a daughter, Leia was a godsend. She was a gift. She's my daughter, too, Lord Vader. And I believe you know she feels the same way."

“Padmé named her,” was all Father said, disregarding everything Papa had just said; and Leia watched as Papa lowered his head to offer a weak nod.

“Yes.”

To that, Father did not reply immediately, and Leia felt the tension in the air thicken. Like a charged, electrical surge humming all around them; making her ears ring and the hairs at the back of her nape rise. Like the calm before a thunderstorm. Hanging heavy, dark and looming. _Suffocating_. She noted that Papa was shivering too, tugging at the edges of his shirt sleeves; and she wondered if he felt that same empty black void that she frequently experienced in Father's presence. Whenever Father's emotions were getting out of hand, difficult to control.

She watched Father shift; folding his strong arms across his chest. Knew he was struggling not to give in to the urge to end Papa; the same way he had slain those officers that had been so intent on assaulting her. Fearfully, Leia tried her hardest to send him a reassuring affection and gentleness through the Force bond he had been teaching her to work on strengthening - to soothe him. 

To assure him he too was loved; he was her father, after all. Her biological father. For a second, he turned the red tinted lenses of his face plate towards her direction; and with relief Leia watched as some of the strain and anger seeped out of his strict posture. Out of his Force signature. She felt him settle down; felt him accept the silent message she’d passed on. Finally, he spoke again.

"I agree that it is _imperative_ her existence remains unknown to the Emperor. I myself am intending to keep it that way. However, I fail to see why _I_ should not have been informed. What lies has Obi Wan fed you? Do you expect I'd slaughter my own flesh and blood?"

"Have you not done that before? _Have you not slaughtered innocent children?_ " Papa raised his voice as he threw his arms out; expression full of exasperation, and unveiled hatred.

Leia flinched. 

She knew Father had taken lives unjustly, she had been taught from birth to fear him because he would pay little heed to her being a child if he found her to be a threat to the Empire. And she knew that Papa was speaking truth now, judging by the sudden flicker of guilt and remorse sparking in Father’s aura. It was gone as soon as it had appeared, but _it had been there_. It had been tangible; it had been genuine. And Leia shook her head, she would not be drilled into fearing or second guessing Father. Not again. Not when she had seen the visions of his happiness upon expecting fatherhood.

"I am no _savage_. I have done nothing that is not necessary to maintain the Empire. I do not kill for sport, unlike the Emperor."

" _Unlike the Emperor_. You're both the same. Greedy, power hungry, self righteous beasts," snarled Papa; face contorted into a ferocious, animalistic grimace - unrecognizable.

"Watch your tongue, viceroy. Much as I have sworn to my daughter not to harm you, I will not tolerate overtly treacherous insinuations towards the Empire. I need _very little_ evidence to tip the scale over in my favour."

“Still, you are very much aware that your late wife would have shared my particular ideology.”

“That is of no concern to either of us now,” Father warned, his tone once again sharp and cutting like a knife; sternly getting the message through.

Papa's expression softened as his defiance faded; still full of hatred and fury, but less inhuman. He looked more like the drained, middle aged man he was. Bereft of his one and only child. Bereft of his identity. Bereft of all that mattered.

Father was the opposite. He had gained something; he had won back a piece of what he thought was forever lost. A piece of humanity, _perhaps_? Biting her bottom lip, Leia inched a little closer still. She hoped the awareness of her presence would be enough for Father to spare Papa's life; no matter how far he might go. She wasn’t sure if she could ever forgive him, would he disregard her wishes so blatantly.

"I just want Leia to be kept _safe_. She's not safe with you, she's going to be prancing around right underneath the Emperor's nose,” breathed Papa eventually. “He’s going to sense her abilities, you know that.”

"And you propose that allowing her to roam freely within the senate is a better option? You, too, have been dangling her life in front of the Emperor's clutches - keeping her in a spot where she’s become just as vulnerable to discovery as if she had been nested by my side. Meanwhile, you have stalled my daughter's development in discovering her abilities as a Force wielder. You have _deprived her_ of a crucial part of herself."

"To keep her safe."

"To make sure the Emperor wouldn't sense her. So _I_ wouldn't sense her."

“It was for the best.”

“Was it now? Do you believe _the child herself_ would agree with you on that statement?”

Papa said nothing, and it was enough of an admission of guilt.

"This, however, is not a conversation we should be having without her personal input. As luck would have it, she shall be offered a chance to speak of her own volition," Father said suddenly; and Leia's doe eyes widened as he turned briefly towards her direction; motioning with one large hand for her to expose herself from her hiding place. _"Come."_

Papa's head whirled around, eyes filled with horror and despair as Leia slowly, and unceremoniously rose to her feet. Only the top of her head was visible, as she made her way around the stacks and piles of supplies, only to stand in front of the clatter of delivery debris. She peered through her long dark lashes; nervously pulling her long fish braid forward over her shoulder.

Her gaze fell first upon Father; who appeared less intimidating now that the sun could touch his mask, adding a soft orange-pinkish glow to the harsh planes of the face plate. What had once been a gruesome mask to fear, now seemed to hold a tenderness. The same affection and tenderness that was _bleeding like an open wound_ through their invisible connection.

When her attention instead shifted to Papa; she noticed the sorrow etched into his features. So pale, so gaunt; so weary and strained. Leia felt a twinge of fear, and of remorse. It was _her fault_ ; she had been worrying him sick. The thought of her not being safe, the fear of her being held against her will. Still, she knew that both men would protect her with their lives. It made the choice between them so much more painful.

"How long have you been listening to us, Leia?" Papa finally spoke; tone hoarse and heavy hearted.

"I've heard everything. I _understand_ , Papa. I'm not upset with you, not anymore. I'm not mad, just disappointed. You've told me so many lies."

"No, Leia, every word I said was true. Vader is an unfeeling monster," Papa's words slipped out before he could stop himself; and he immediately stared at Father's face plate.

If Father had been offended, he didn't show it. Not even his aura revealed any such emotions. Neither did he shift or protest as Papa approached Leia; until he could kneel cautiously in front of her, his bloodshot, red rimmed eyes level with hers.

“I did omit things, I admit as much. And it was wrong of me. I should have informed you of the fact that Vader is your biological father, and I should have explained why you were kept from him. Mama wanted to tell you the truth, and I should have listened to her. _I’m sorry_ , honey. I truly am.”

Leia swallowed hard, gaze falling on the ground between them. She shook her head briefly, even as Papa’s tender hand came up to caress her cheek; tucking a strand of stray hair behind her delicate ear. Without thought; her tiny one shot up to cradle his, squeezing it. She could feel the sincerity in his apology, and she accepted it. But she already knew what her decision would be, and she knew he would not be pleased. She also felt the stinging jealousy and hurt radiating off of the figure behind them; noted the hint of cautious _fear_ in Papa’s expression.

“I forgive you, Papa. But there’s _someone else_ who needs me more, now.”

Papa lowered his voice to a hushed whisper as he replied, crouching closer to Leia as if that would somehow make Father disappear. As if it would make sure he wouldn’t hear what was said. Leia stroke the back of Papa’s hand with her thumb.

“Vader needs _nobody_ , Leia. Whatever he’s told you, it’s a lie.”

Leia flinched at that; now it was her turn to furrow her brow as she took a couple of steps back, letting go of Papa’s hand and moving out of his reach. She couldn’t help but be offended and enraged by the way Papa was trying to convince her that her emotions were faulty; how he was trying to make her doubt her own judgment.

"You're wrong. Father has feelings. He may not show them the way you do, he may not be as gentle or open as you and Mama; but I know he's honest. He has showed me visions of himself, and of Mother. I have sensed his true feelings, and they're pure. I'm not afraid of Father, and you should never have tried to _make me_ fear him."

"It was all for your safety, Leia," Papa repeated, voice full of despair; clearly wounded by hearing her call Vader _‘Father’_. "I know it was not the best decision, but it was all for your sake. _I love you_ , Mama loves you. You're our daughter."

"I am, and I love you too," Leia whispered hoarsely, nodding weakly before peering over her shoulder at the man towering over them both. "But I am _his_ daughter, too."

The conflict within her was an overwhelming turmoil of contradictions. Part of her wanted to run up to Papa, to hug him tightly and cling to him the way she had done when she’d been a small child in need of consolation. Another part of her wanted to slap him across the face for his deception; as punishment and a token of the ways he had betrayed her. And then she wanted to hold and embrace him again; feel his strong, warm embrace soothe her. His scent filling her nostrils; his calming words in her ear.

But it would not be the same. It would _never_ be the same.

Eyes darting one final time between the two men she now referred to as paternal figures; Leia huffed softly, her eyes watering against her will but she succeeded in fighting back any tears threatening to well up. Then, she felt the cold sinking sensation at the pit of her belly as she turned her back towards Papa. She already knew his eyes were watery as well, as the realization that he'd lost a part of her dawned on him. She knew if she looked back to actually see it; she would lose the strength to fight back her own pain. She _needed_ to get to know Father better; needed to strengthen their bond, to learn more about her abilities with the Force. Abilities they both shared. She wanted him to teach her, and she wanted to find out what had made him who he was. It was irrefutable.

"I must be with Father, for now. I _will_ come back, I can't abandon you or Mama," she said, voice quivering as a lump formed at the base of her throat. "But I have known you all my life. I've only just begun to get to know Father. I promise I will come back, but you must let me do this.”

“Leia,” Papa said, his tone choked and unsteady as he implored her with just the utterance of her name to change her mind. 

_“Please.”_

Leia’s tone was pleading, as she stopped momentarily. She flexed her fingers a couple of times, shoulders coming up. When she heard no reply; she knew it was as much of an acceptance of her decision as she would ever receive. With that, she joined Father by his side, eyes still fixed on the ground to avoid spotting the tear streaked expression of Papa she could already hint out of her peripheral; and to her surprise, a large gloved hand came to rest on her petite shoulder.

A visual manifestation of a distant memory flashed before Leia’s inner vision then, as that hand offered a light, supportive squeeze. An aged, dark haired woman on her knees; kissing the forehead of a little blonde boy somewhere on a poverty stricken desert planet. The boy’s blue eyes familiar, full of sorrow and doubt. The woman simply smiled, stroking the little boy’s chubby cheek as she whispered lovingly. 

_“Be brave, and don’t look back. Don’t look back.”_

And Leia knew then, as her hand came up to rest atop Father’s large gloved one, that she had made _the right decision._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part four of this fic; and there will be more to come eventually. I posted this before on tumblr but wanted to give it a glow up before posting it here, as well. I didn't intentionally portray Bail as in the wrong; he is simply misguided and of course justified in his distrust towards Vader.
> 
> I hope the first meeting between Leia's two father figures after the reveal turned out as dramatic as I imagine you expected it to be.
> 
> Enjoy!


	5. Wait For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father was standing with his hands folded behind his back. Broad shouldered, his stance authorial. Helmeted head tilted slightly back; as he was peering through the view-port into the ether. Watching the vast, pitch black void of space ahead. Only peppered with the white sparks of stars; as well as a couple of mandatory escort shuttles to ensure their security.

Leia hesitated to approach; leaning awkwardly just inside of the hydraulic doorway. Wide doe eyes darting all around her, she took in her surroundings. She noted some cadets and officers seated behind monitors and screens; typing away on their data pads. The command bridge was smaller than she'd imagined, for a ship the size of a star destroyer. But it wasn't a cramped space. There was ample room for about twenty working pairs of hands; and she bravely ignored the stolen glances the busy Imperial staff was throwing in her direction.

She had only been here once before, accompanied on her way by Father. 

Somehow, he had made sure then as he did now, that no one asked any questions. There had been no attention paid to her, she'd felt as if she'd been invisible. As if she'd been on some sort of secret stealth mission, and she wondered if Father had somehow used his powers to redirect the crew's perception. Now, even though she was wearing the crisp white Imperial style suit she'd been fitted with; she felt she stood out. She smoothed down the hem of her jacket; buttoned up the last hook of her high collar. Kept her back straight, head held high as she strode across the space of the walkway to the farthest end. Up to Father's side.

Father was standing with his hands folded behind his back. Broad shouldered, his stance authorial. Helmeted head tilted slightly back; as he was peering through the view-port into the ether. Watching the vast, pitch black void of space ahead. Only peppered with the white sparks of stars; as well as a couple of mandatory escort shuttles to ensure their security.

It had never really struck her until then; the might of the position her Father held. Or the undisputed control he had over his own crew; none speaking to him directly unless he addressed them. She could see some alarmed glances from a couple of baby faced boys - one a pale redhead, one with a darker complex - seated somewhere in the mid section of the long spanning control board to her left. On the right, she noted a girl furrowing her brows and shake her head, as if frustrated by her chores.

Finally, Leia stopped as she too stood still before the window glass. She swallowed, hesitant as to speak. 

How was she supposed to address him in this situation? He appeared as if he hadn't even noticed her presence, but she knew that was just for show. She could feel the welcoming sensation of his aura wash over her through their Force bond. The usual, icy tendrils of the Dark Side's hostile cold were always flickering underneath the affection he poured into their connection, as if biding their time. But the warm, soothing sensation would always prevail. Leia did her best to mimic whatever Father was doing; wishing to send the same sort of emotional reassurance back at him. She hoped it was successful.

"You wish to speak," said Father eventually; his voice unusually soft spoken even through the harsh diction of his vocoder.

Leia bit her bottom lip and offered a small nod; as she glanced up at her Father's towering figure. The unseeing lenses of his face plate fixed on something in the far distance. His steady, mechanical breathing almost peaceful now that she was used to it. That, and the quiet whispering between the staff members as they typed down codes and informatives were the only sounds. Leia shuffled her feet; mirroring Father's pose with her tiny hands neatly folded behind her back as well.

"I... you said I could come here to see you, if I wanted to."

"Indeed," Father confirmed, with a small nod to his head.

The tension poured off of her then; Leia's tense shoulders slumping just a little when she relaxed. She had been afraid he might chastise her for appearing before Imperials, for boldly stalking up to him. Of course, someone was bound to be aware of her presence - she had been hidden away on the Devastator for three full weeks since begrudgingly confronting her adopted parents on Alderaan. Still, the expressions of confusion and thinly veiled fear poorly concealed by the brims of their caps revealed they were mostly uninformed. Confused as to why this tiny girl might impose on Darth Vader's authority and live. Leia subtly inched a little closer to Father; lowering her voice as she spoke now.

"How... do I address you? While we're in public, I mean."

"However you see fit," said Father simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But... won’t they hear it? I thought you didn't want anybody to know."

"They will not remember anything, if I do not wish so. Some of them are loyal to _me_ above the Emperor, however. They shall pose no threat, and if that rings false, I shall personally dispose of them."

It shocked Leia that Father would speak so openly about that fact; but then when she peered back over her shoulder, she found that most of their company were wearing small, mostly concealed headsets. The only ones appearing to have both ears free were the Captain and the Admiral. Leia squinted the eyes, but could only make out the name tag of the Captain; a petite but stone faced woman named _Y-something Cilla_ , if the tag was to be trusted.

"Captain Cilla is reliable," said Father, as if he had been reading her thoughts. “She knows _better_ than to cross me.”

And perhaps he had, Leia still wasn't entirely where his limits were. Nodding, although not quite convinced, she averted her eyes when Cilla glanced back to hold her gaze. Her dark eyes were cold, almost matching the chill of the Dark Side radiating from Father's subconscious at all times. It was jarring to see a woman not much taller than Leia herself conjure such respect. She supposed she could understand why a woman like Cilla would find herself loyal to Father, though.

“I trust you then, Father.”

He said nothing, but it was evident that her decision pleased him. A small pause followed, until Leia figured she might as well use the opportunity to ask a few questions that had always been nagging at the back of her mind. There was so much she wanted to know, so many intricate details the the system of the Empire’s order she felt she needed to comprehend.

“What is your rank, Father?” she suddenly found herself asking, curiosity peeking.

Leia had yet to meet a single Imperial who would not abide to and obey Father’s directions and decisions. Some of them might stutter a hasty, attempted protest only to be cut short with a threat and rush to carry out their orders. Most would simply acknowledge the command, and follow it up without fuss or complaint. Lord Vader, was the title they would use when addressing him. Of course, the prefix of lord came with a slew of questions. 

What did it mean to be a lord of the Empire, was it more than simply a hint to his existence as a Sith Lord? Where on the power ladder did it place him? Who outranked him, if anyone at all besides the Emperor himself? Was he impeachable, could he carry out whatever actions he liked without consequences of punishment? Would he always be absolved by the Empire for any crimes? Pursing her lips, Leia waited impatiently for an answer.

“I hold no concrete rank. I am the Enforcer of the Empire, I serve only the Emperor,” said Father, after a pause in which Leia almost assumed he would not grant her a reply.

“Why then, do they all listen to you?”

“Because I am above them. My rank is not defined, I have no use for vain titles such as Admiral, or Moff. I find my work is best carried out from a neutral standpoint. When one does not know what exactly one’s superior’s might entails, one will find it more of a risk to show disobedience.”

Leia nodded slowly.

“There are only three people of importance, apart from the Empire, whom you must be familiar with, and show adequate courtesy towards. You have already had the _displeasure_ of making Grand Moff Tarkin’s acquaintance. I trust you are aware of what a possible second meeting with his person might demand.”

“Yes, Father.”

Father was right.

Tarkin was a cunning man. Intelligent, he knew how to put on a dark charm; she’d watched the man persuade and manipulate his peers into agreement, into switching sides. She’d seen him change the mind of people questioning the Empire for its ruthless rule, turning them into _straight yes men_. It appeared Tarkin’s first choice was always conversion therapy, before execution when it came to traitors or doubters.

Yet, much as he carried himself well with the flair and grace of a nobleman, his eyes revealed his pretense. A pale blue, they were cruel and ruthless, as if there had never been any kindness in his heart. As if he had been born the perfect vessel for a leading man of the Empire, born only with the ambition to climb the ladder in mind. He was one of the talking heads of the Emperor, but the way in which he spoke and carried himself had always made him appear more trustworthy in his deceit. Papa had always despised Tarkin, much as he had despised Father. 

Leia had been thoroughly warned of both me through her childhood, even before she was old enough to be introduced to the Imperial higher ups in person. She’d been prepared, she’d thought. Still, her first conversation with Tarkin had taken her aback. Left her uncomfortable, and peering over her shoulder. Father might be able to read her mind, she figured, but it was Tarkin who loomed as the shadow behind each every corner. He had no reason to to rat her out, if he were to encounter her aboard an Imperial vessel unwittingly. Father offered to reassurance, despite the fact that he must sense her dread and discomfort. It told her all she needed to know, reaffirming her decision to always be careful where Tarkin was involved.

“You are correct in your judgment. Search your feelings, they serve you well. The Force shall guide you, so let it,” Father said instead, and Leia suspected that was meant to be taken as a compliment.

“I will, Father.”

“Very well. The second important figure would be Grand Admiral Thrawn. While he may not pose a direct threat to you as such, he cannot be trusted or understated. His allegiance lies with the Emperor only, and he will not tolerate leniency on any conditions.”

While Leia knew little of Thrawn personally - only aware of the fact that he was a Chiss warrior, who had been taken under the Empire’s wing. The Empire was infamous for their favour of the human species, above fellow humanoid races and, according to Papa’s history lessons on the Empire as such, Thrawn was a rare exception. Hence, Leia had deduced through that only he must be extremely valuable to make the cut.

 _A tactician_ , Papa had said, _excellent at forming strategies and commanding his fleet where it needed to be._ He had never lost a battle, never miscalculated the odds. Something about the tone in which Father now spoke, revealed that he too seemed to be carrying some sort of resentful admiration towards the admiral. That was another note, worthy of remembering.

“You need not be concerned. The Admiral is too set in his own vanity, so preoccupied he seldom strays from his ways. Tarkin is a much more pressing matter, as you are more likely to come upon him, are you to remain in my direct presence. If such an instance is presented to you, I shall aid you accordingly. Fear not.”

Leia smiled at that. Father rarely spoke so freely, indeed he was formal as always, but it was evident he meant to protect her would the time come where he may need to explain himself, and why he had agreed to mentoring the princess of Alderaan aboard his private star destroyer. Undoubtedly, some would get the wrong idea, that much Leia understood. However, rumours regarding possible courtship of a _teenage girl_ were not Father’s main concerns, those may only serve to amplify his already terrifying image. What did worry him, was the _Emperor_.

The Emperor would know Father could never bring himself to find a consort for consolation, that he would only ever have eyes for Mother. The Emperor would pry into Father’s mind, would find the connection, rip it out by the roots and possibly turn Leia herself into a fresh pawn to replace him. Father had showed it to her, through the visions their shared bond allowed. Had exposed her to the Emperor’s powers secondhand, to his frightening malice and his even more abhorrent sadism. If Father was powerful, _the Emperor was invincible_.

“And who’s the third?”

“The Grand Inquisitor.”

That was something new. 

With a scowl, Leia tried her best to think back and remembered whether Papa had ever mentioned anything about an Inquisitor. There was something, about some sort of sect or Dark Side cult allegedly linked to the Empire that she seemed to recall, but if so it had been a very brief footnote in a longer narrative of information. If it was indeed Papa who had been the one to mention the group, at all. Leia had always been perceptive, picking up on bits and pieces of casual conversations around her, so she may just as well have overheard it while listening in.

“Is _eavesdropping_ a particular pastime activity of yours, Child?”

Once again listening in to her thoughts, Father had picked them out with ease. His tone seemed to convey only genuine amusement however; unusual but evident. Perhaps a bit of pride, as well. It made Leia blush and duck her head in embarrassment.

“No, I just… like to know what’s going on around me, I guess.”

“It was not a reprimand,” said Father with what might have been read as a shrug. “It is necessary to be perceptive, and to keep your senses keen, if you are to remain safe at my side.”

“So, you were _complimenting_ me, then?”

Father’s silence spoke for itself, especially when accompanied by a wave of proud affirmation through their bond. At that, Leia’s head perked up and she shed the last lingering tension. She took another glance around them, at their company. The Imperial workers were still preoccupied, their fingers flying over their consoles. Captain Cilla and her second in command remained by the bridge side, still carrying on a convenient discussion about coordinates, as well as the preferred docking bay once they reached their destination.

“You wish to ask me further about the Inquisitors.”

Leia wasn’t sure whether that was his way of redirecting her attention, or if he was actually picking up on that little nagging curiosity at the back of her mind as well.

“Yes, if you want to tell me more,” she admitted, with a thinly veiled glee.

Father had been quite distant in the beginning, mostly quiet and unresponsive to her attempts at making casual conversation. This might be one of their most involved interactions since the day she left Alderaan and the only parents she’d known behind. It had been difficult, it still ached as she missed and longed for them. But she was getting accustomed to Father, and to his ways. There was a subtle _shift_ in him, like a tap had been turned on. Leia appreciated it, and she hoped that with time, aided by her own stubborn determination, he would open up to her further. She was already making progress, and that was enough of a reward to continue prodding.

“The Inquisitors, formally known as the Inquisitorius to the Empire, serve the Emperor as Jedi killers, “ Father said bluntly, almost taking Leia aback and she stared wide eyed up at him. “They are officially lead by the Grand Inquisitor, and at the moment surmount to about twelve members. They are the Emperor’s creation, he laid the foundation for the organization. As a jab at me, he falsely assumed I would need assistance in purging the treacherous Jedi from the Galaxy. However, I have ever since my discovery of their order, a poorly concealed secret indeed, been serving as their one true supervisor.”

“So you’re their leader?”

“Yes, you might assume that. However, it is with the Empire their loyalty lies. I have, through my training, earned their respect and their fear. They have never seen the Emperor’s face, never spoken directly to his visage. They know him as the former Chancellor only in name and image, but as you are aware, the altered holograms do not disclose his true appearance. Hence, the only superior they have ever known in the flesh, is _I_.”

“Do you trust them?”

Father turned briefly towards Leia, his emotionless face plate aimed at her as if the hollow sockets of what seemed a skull black as tar met her gaze. She knew he was holding her stare, and she swallowed as she scanned the mask, despite knowing it could never reveal his true feelings or thoughts. The connection between them was strangely cryptic, thrumming like blur or background noises. Father was purposely choosing not to let her through, not to channel his mind’s inner workings. He shook his head, and Leia might almost have thought he was smirking at her naivety. Once more, she found herself bashful.

“ _No_. This is the first thing you must learn, and understand regarding my position. I cannot trust anybody. My status as a Sith Lord, a place of eminent power, is something every Inquisitor desires. Such is the lure of the Dark Side, it compels them to yearn to take my place. They wish to overthrow me, to serve as the Emperor’s new apprentice in my absence. This is an impossibly, for none of them possess power sufficient to make me yield. It is imperative that I continuously maintain their awareness of that fact. I do _just that_ , however I see fit.”

“How do you function in an environment where you can’t trust anyone?”

This was the side to Father Leia had yet to accept. She didn’t particularly like his idea that punishment was the only sufficient way of earning subservience, that fear seemed to forgo respect. She didn’t condone his killing disobedient or incompetent personnel on a whim, or at least she knew she was raised not to. The fact that sometimes, she found herself apathetic to his bouts of unhinged lash outs frightened her. Some part of her cowered, wondering whether the pleasant _thrill_ that overcame when she thought of the fate her assaulters had found at Father’s hand when they first met hinted at her sharing his capability for cruelty.

“I commend _fear_.”

That was the expected reply. Leia shuddered, remembering Papa’s tales of Father killing helpless younglings, children taken into the care of the Jedi Order. Was that why? To be feared, and dreaded, and horrify people in a stunned silence? Was that why tales of Father as a monster, a ferocious beast devouring life in the dark of the night, were so prevalent? As a whisper, one some wouldn't dare believe existed. One others knew far too well was real, a walking nightmare.

“Is that _enough_?” Leia found herself piping up against better judgment, swallowing hard when the intensity of Father’s stare once again bore down on her; making her automatically shrink back.

“It is the _only_ way. You are yet too young to understand my purpose. I have committed to my master.”

“To save Mother. She may not be here, but I _am_.”

Father seemed to hesitate in his conviction, as he stilled and turned back to once more stare out into open space. Leia felt a tremor in his Force signature, something forlorn and sad and harrowing seeping through the void of darkness. A sorrow, as Father was reminded of Mother. As he mourned her, the grief never fading, never leaving his side. Leia felt guilty, for bringing the pain back to life. Without thinking of the consequences, she raised one small hand to press it gently to Father’s upper arm. Just above the elbow. The protective fabric of his suit course and rough to the touch, uninviting. Still, she offered a small squeeze of affection to soothe his inner turmoil.

He _flinched_. The reaction was so distinctly human, it shocked Leia.

She had assumed his limbs were all replacements, that they consisted completely of cybernetics and mechanics. Instead, as she pinpointed the cry from the living Force of live matter as Father had instructed during what he called her ‘adjustment to her abilities’, Leia was astonished to realize that the area she had touched was only flesh. Wounded, corrupted, scarred flesh if the tainted aura he emanated was anything to go by, but _flesh nonetheless_. Instead of withdrawing, uncertainty clouding her mind along with a wish to reaffirm her comfort, she offered another squeeze to the area.

“I’m not afraid of you, Father,” she murmured, and she meant every word; pouring her honesty into their bond.

She shoved the affection, the resolution into his consciousness like a tidal wave to overflow his crippled, skewed perception of the world. Leia had seen enough to know he thought he deserved no love, had seen enough to know he would withdraw for fear of twisting her into something similar to himself. But she pressed onward, keeping her palm in place, letting the warm feel of life seep through the Force, passing the barriers his protective suit and armour made. Breaking through the cocoon. She felt him waver, felt him resist her but it was a feeble attempt. She suspected he held his guard halfway down on purpose. A warm smile tugged at the corners of her lips; and she was greeted by a glimpse of the woman she knew to be Mother through Father’s buried memories as she brought them to life.

 _Mother_ , dressed in a gown of pearly blue satin, velvet and silks; expensive beads and jewels decorating the sleeves. Patterns of silver threads embroidered into the bodice and skirt piece. Her hair in twin buns, both twisted around swirling headpieces of silver to match the dress. Her hazel eyes were kind, warm and soft as her hand came up to touch Father’s cheek. Her beauty rivaling the sunset sky over what must be Coruscant; _a busy city with a dark underbelly_ , as Papa had taught her. Around her neck hung a hand carved Japor snippet, one Leia already knew her Father had carefully crafted. Despite the jarring contrast to her richly endowed dressing, it made a flawless addition.

 _‘I’m not afraid, Anakin,’_ she said, her voice clear as a bell as her fingers caressed the side of Father’s face, tucking rebellious strands of curly golden hair behind his ear. _‘I’ll be fine, and if not, you’ll be there as my escort to save me.’_

 _‘Always,’_ a male voice responded, one soft and tender and overflowing with love so strong Leia almost felt her knees buckle underneath her when exposed to it. _‘Just be careful.’_

_‘I always am.’_

Mother smiled, her teeth hinting as Father took her hand in his and kissed the top courteously. He tucked her slender arm under his, she grasped at his forearm; clinging to the black cloth. Her laughter came again, innocent and flighty it remained echoing in Leia’s head even as the image faded away and she was taken back to the deck of the star destroyer.

Father did not move, did not speak. But neither did he recoil, or seek to put any distance between them. Leia gently stroked her thumb over Father’s bicep, a melancholy lingering in her chest, a lump in her throat. She wished she would have known Mother, through more than Papa’s stories and Father’s memories. But she was content just to have that, just to be able to see her smile, hear her voice. Know her love for Father was strong enough to sway even a woman as resolute and tenacious as her from her path.

“Will you ever tell me more about Mother?” Leia finally asked, as she withdrew her hand to clasp both hands in front of her hips.

“When the time is right.”

 _‘When I can bear it,’_ was what he really meant to say.

“Of course. I’ll wait for it, then.”

There was no reply, but Leia could sense that Father was relieved to once again shove the reminder of Mother back into his subconscious for the time being. She hoped that one day, hopefully soon, he’d be more inclined not to.

“You were speaking about the Inquisitors.”

It was an attempt at getting him to speak freely again, and Leia held her breath as she hoped he would pick up on her silent plea.

“Indeed.”

She exhaled. _It worked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this story, but here you can finally read the fifth installment. I hope you enjoy, there is drama on the way! I had a lot of fun putting this one together, and I hope the interaction works. The other chapters can me found under my fanfics tags. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	6. Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Lord Vader."
> 
> "Viceroy," Father greeted with an empty, monotone voice. "I see your celebrations are as _crude_ as I'd been lead to believe."
> 
> Papa didn't even flinch at the mocking jab, only pursing his lips as he scowled; the line between his furrowed brows barely visible before disappearing. Instead, he straightened up, puffing his chest out and faking a broad, inviting beam.

_"It's necessary Father, it's custom. People would be confused if I wasn't there, you told me you didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Here’s our chance."_

Leia wasn't sure how exactly she had convinced Father to agree. Not that she’d particularly wanted to attend the Alderaan Royal House Charity Ball. She had barely spoken to her parents since the fateful meeting on her home planet between Father and Papa, when she had decided to stand with her sire and birth father; rather than her adoptive one. She still couldn't say why she had picked Father's side, before the man who had raised her since infancy. Something had just told her it was the right thing to do, that Father needed the comfort and solace of someone by his side more at the moment than Papa did. Papa was whole. Father was broken, and somehow Leia felt she could help mend the pieces together.

If not, she would at least give it a proper try.

The ball was held as an annual tradition, on Coruscant for convenience in a locale adjoined to Papa's city apartment. It was one of the few buildings still standing since the glory days of the old Republic; ancient, it stood out as a breath of fresh air against the city’s modern skyline. Its halls were massive, vast and open. 

Leia had partaken in the ball only twice before. It was during her first ball - her introduction to society, and Imperial supervision - that she had made Grand Moff Tarkin's acquaintance. She knew he would be present, and Father had confirmed as much. As far as Father was aware, about thirty-five Imperial Moffs and Admirals of notable stature and rank were accounted for, and Leia had promised to make sure to greet them all accordingly - although Father wouldn't force her to make small talk with them for long. Of course Mama and Papa, the Queen and Viceroy of Alderaan, would appear as hosts of the event and Leia figured she might take the opportunity after the festivities ended to speak with them in seclusion. She knew Father would be displeased, but he wouldn't stop her.

There were few other people Leia knew in person attending. She expected to see senator Mon Mothma who was a close friend of her adoptive parents, perhaps even senator Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia. Father appeared to have a distaste for Corellians, but given Leia had only ever had pleasant conversations with Iblis; she had pleaded with him to stay put and allow her to carry herself as she usually if he proved to be among the guest list. 

Apart from these, the only notable attendee who was new to the crowd would be _Darth Vader himself_. Father had never been present, if Mama's stories of past charity ceremonies were to be believed. He prided himself on staying out of the fancy parties of the elite, thinking himself above it. Leia knew she should frown upon his dislike for the festivities, given her upbringing, but she found she only longed to be able to do the same. Perhaps one day, if she were to be officially introduced as the daughter of Lord Vader, she too may share the same privileges. She'd love to be able to pick and choose, although she still wasn't sure how she was going to follow up on her position as future monarch of Alderaan on top of it. 

It would be best not to dwell on that.

Smoothing out the impractically long trail of her silky, baby blue gown; Leia took a deep breath to brace herself. Doing a final once over in the full length mirror, she straightened out the thin sleeves, and secured the neatly rolled buns at the sides of her head. As a final touch, she tied a gold embroidered headband around the crown of her head and pulled on a pair of elbow length gloves. They were black satin, drawing attention to them as the only dark element of her outfit. Still, she had wanted to include some sort of nod towards Father; and the secret of her heritage that only they knew. Father would already be waiting, slinking as inconspicuous as a six foot six, half cyborg clad in all black might manage around the walls. Looming close to the exit ways. Leia suspected he was uncomfortable while forced to make lite conversation, his Force signature - something Father had taken time out of his schedule to help her practice on recognizing to its full extent - speaking of tension and disgust. 

As she descended down the stairs, leaving what had once been her chambers while studying for a future as senator - her room and sanctuary - she was surprised to find Papa waiting for her at the bottom of the stairway. Regal as always, he wore a navy blue coat with a half length cape, with simple brown pants and matching polished boots. His dark hair was smoothed back with the silver temples clearly visible, and Leia felt her heart sink with something that could only be guilt. Still, she offered him a sad albeit fond smile.

"Papa," she greeted, with a small bow.

She hesitated as she came to a halt in front of him, but when he held his arms out in a welcoming gesture; she surrendered. Throwing herself into Papa's tight embrace, she squeezed him right back while he rocked her lightly back and forth. She hoped he knew she wouldn't abandon him or Mama, that she still loved them. She was still disappointed in their decision to keep the truth from her, but she wasn’t mad or upset anymore.

"Leia, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're here," he murmured, kissing the top of her head as he withdrew, a proud gleam in his eye as he took her in.

"So am I. Not so much for the ball, that I could do without, but to see you and Mama again."

Papa nodded weakly, his forlorn dark eyes still tired and hollowed out. Dark circles lined them, and the wrinkles at the corners of his lips had turned into deep set jowls. Still, he held out his elbow as customary, and Leia eloquently looped one thin arm through it. It wasn't the first time Papa had been her escort to a social event, and she wondered whether it may be the last. She found it difficult to picture Father leading her the same way, but it was no longer completely inconceivable. Silence fell over them, as Papa began his stride and she followed him elegantly; the distant murmurs of music and chattering drawing ever nearer. Waiting to envelope her.

"I've missed you," said Leia, suddenly stopping as she peered up at Papa's solemn features.

"I've missed you too. Of course I have, I... I _understand_ what you're trying to do, what you're thinking. I just don't think it's safe, I haven't changed my stance on that."

"I know. And I understand you, too. But I'm happy you're letting me make my own decisions. I know you don't believe Father can be helped, but I want to at least try."

“I cannot force you to stay away from him.”

“And neither can Father force me to stay. I’m by his side out of my own volition.”

Leia noted how Papa winced when she mentioned the word _father_ , she could tell he still wasn't pleased with her saying it. He would have to get used to it, Leia decided as she pursed her lips. At least he made no comments about it.

"I know. Leia, you must not forget that Breha and I _love you_."

Papa's tone was so sincere, laced with hurt and fear, his gaze a heavy weight to bear. Leia felt a lump beginning to form at the base of her throat, the ball of tears longing to be shed lodging itself tight in place. Instead, she took Papa's palm in hers, clinging to it with both hands as she squeezed it tight. Never breaking eye contact, Papa's stare glassy and wet, she pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles.

"Never. You're still my parents. Both of you. I _promise_ ," she whispered, adding another kiss as the prickling sensation began to tingle behind her eyes. “I love you too.”

She blinked a couple of times, managing to restrain herself and get her emotions under control. From a distance she could sense Father's concern, and that same jealousy she had noted every time she interacted with her adoptive parents. As if he could read her mind, as if he could tell exactly when they were on her mind. Sending a wave of reassurance back at him, she outwardly gave Papa another smile. Larking her arm back through his, she gave it a gentle tug to indicate they move.

"Let's go."

“Let us.”

Papa agreed, guiding Leia the rest of the distance without another word. Yet, this time the silence was familiar, and gentle. A welcome reminder of the fact that she would always find affection with Papa and Mama. 

Squinted her eyes, the overhead lights momentarily blinded Leia as they finally crossed the threshold of the arched doorways leading into the cavernous gathering hall. One side was lined with neatly placed rows of tables and chairs, ready for dinner later in the evening. A small stage for the live band and entertainment, this was also where the donations to various charitable causes in the Galaxy would be received. The credits collected would be split evenly between a set of preconceived organisations to fight poverty among other injustices. Leia knew most of not all Imperials were only here for shot. 

As expected, even with the dim glow candle lights, the gathering seemed stiff and stilted due to the guests’ opposing political view. It was never discussed, since critique of the Emperor equalled treason. Still, it was an open secret. Letting her gaze travel over the crowds, Leia subconsciously clung tight to Papa's arm for support. She had been afraid of strangers and social get togethers as a small child, and even as a teen whenever she couldn't hide behind the guise of Princess of Alderaan to keep her distance, she would still feel the anxiety rear its head every now and then. Not that she’d ever let on.

Looking closely, Leia immediately caught glimpse of Governor Tarkin. He was chatting with a couple of female senators, and their male neimoidian escort. Pale blue eyes cold as ice, even as he beamed brightly as he charmed the women. One of the most powerful men of the Galactic Empire. Leia didn't want to think about what the implications were, even as he made the ladies laugh softly at a joke she couldn't hear. ‘

Then that she noticed Father. 

As Leia had expected, he remained close to the opposite arched entrance, as a exitway should he need to excuse himself and take his leave. He had informed her it might well be necessary. Tall and imposing, he towered over the rest of their peers. His shadow loomed large and unyielding, and Leia noted how the Imperials closest to Father appeared suspiciously pale and clammy; keeping him in their periphery without fail. She found that when she listened closely, she could hear the periodic breathing of his respirator even through the ruckus surrounding them.

"You should speak with him. Out of courtesy. Since he's never attended before, it would seem strange if you wouldn't introduce herself, you’d seem rude. For anyone who _isn’t you_ , crossing Vader like that would be… ominous," Papa said suddenly in a low voice; his eyes never leaving Father's large, bulky frame.

For a second, Leia almost protested. 

There was a surge of overwhelming fear that she might act too comfortable and casual around the masked enforcer of the Empire, that she would draw unwanted attention and there would be rumours or questions floating about. Still, she held her head high, deciding it needed to be done. For appearances sake. She might just as well put her acting skills to the test, she had taken theatre classes as a child after all. Time to see whether the praise was genuine, or just for show because of her royal status.

Surrendering Leia hummed her approval, and Papa took it as just that. With steps a bit too rushed, he strode through the cliques and crowds of attendees, a resolute expression on his face as they neared Father. 

Leia felt Father's aura, his Force signature coiling with his distaste for Papa - the loathing almost tangible when they finally came to a halt in front of the Sith Lord. Viceroy Bail Organa was no small man himself, but standing next to Father, even he appeared dwarfed and vulnerable. Resigned, almost. He kept a firm hold on Leia's arm, as he gave Father a small bow for to solidify the act. It was customary, and Leia imagined he would greet Tarkin with the same gesture as soon as opportunity arose to speak to the man.

"Lord Vader."

"Viceroy," Father greeted with an empty, monotone voice. "I see your celebrations are as _crude_ as I'd been lead to believe."

Papa didn't even flinch at the mocking jab, only pursing his lips as he scowled; the line between his furrowed brows barely visible before disappearing. Instead, he straightened up, puffing his chest out and faking a broad, inviting beam.

"As is _your_ attendance, milord."

Leia's head snapped up and she stared wide eyes at Papa's still proud, feigned grin. He seemed almost smug, and she somehow knew that the only reason he'd dared cross the line that far was because of _her_. She didn't like the idea of being used as leverage in a silent war between her two paternal figures, but didn't say anything. Instead, she resolved to pinch the inside of Papa's arm as a reprimand, and to let him know she didn't find the remark tasteful. 

But she had to admit it was amusing, watching Father fall silent where he stood, frozen in place as a statue. Although he’d never show it outwardly.

"Watch your tongue," he said after a pause Leia assumed was taken to regain his composure, she could tell Father was baffled by Papa's audacity to insult him. “Do not get _too_ comfortable in the presence of the Imperial elite, your leisure may be to your detriment.”

"Very well, but I expect the same of _you_ , Lord Vader, “ Papa sounded so dismissive, it only added to the awkwardness. 

Leia noted Father balling his large gloved hands into fists, sensing his rage simmering below the surface. It faded slowly to the background and instead, he shifted to hook his thumbs into his belt; his cape falling back over his shoulders to reveal his broad shoulders and chest plate piece. He tipped his helmeted head slightly backwards, as if to sneer down at Papa. Perhaps attempting to intimidate the man, and the barely perceptible tremor Leia felt through her hold on Papa's forearm told her Father was succeeding.

“You shall see that I am full of surprises, Viceroy.”

“I look much forward to it, milord.”

"Indeed. Now, I believe Governor Tarkin would like to have a word with you. He has been keen on discussing senatorial reconstruction, preferably with somebody sharing his superfluous inclinations for structure. Meanwhile, I presume the princess knows to introduce herself, if she has been taught _anything at all_ by the likes of you."

"As you like," Papa hissed through grit teeth, his plastered on beam slowly turning into a grimace not far from a snarl. "I _expect_ she'll be safe in your company."

With what was almost a warning, Papa let go of Leia as he withdrew to slip away - giving her a concerned glance when he backed off, before turning on his heel to approach Tarkin who was now looking over at him with an expectant smirk. Inching closer to Father, Leia did her best to ignore a sudden feeling of being closely watched that made the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. She knew people would be curious to see her interact with Father, unaware of their connection and the fact that they already knew each other rather well. She nervously yanked up the hems of her gloves, folding her small hands in front of her hips.

“I suppose it’s just the two of us, then.”

“So it would seem.”

Father sure wasn’t making it easy, and Leia scolded him inwardly for his social ineptitude.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Vader?" Leia said, keeping her tone flat as she peered up at him; hoping she was convincing enough despite how foreign it felt not to address him as _'Father'_. "It's a pleasure to have you."

She hoped he would at least try to make civil conversation in a way that sounded believable.

"Balls are not a pastime activity I particularly enjoy participating in."

Leia knew as much, and Father had revealed it in a not very subtle manner when he had unwillingly affirmed that they would be attending the event. She had learned he'd never been one for lavish public displays, or for feigning good will while making boring small talk. Even now, he was brooding, filling his subjugigates with dread with his mere attendance. 

In service of the charade, Leia opted instead to hold out her hand as custom expected, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Father caught on. He took her tiny palm in his, raising it briefly upwards as he gave her a short, sharp and disjointed bow - unable to offer the usual kiss, it would suffice. Leia responded with a well practiced, fluent bend to the knee.

"What do you do in your past time, then?" Leia found herself asking, realizing then that she had never really pried into Father's interests, wondering whether he even had any hobbies.

“I am not one to find enjoyment in unfulfilling, trivial manual labour.”

“But surely there must be _something_ you enjoy doing to take your mind off of Imperial duty?”

Now was a good a time as any to ask. 

Leia could tell that the persistent inquiry had taken Father aback, when he tilted his head a tiny bit to the side; regaining the same pose from before, hands firmly planted at his sides as if defying her curiosity. It took him a while to reply, possibly considering what to answer, and Leia found herself sincerely beginning to ponder whether pastime activities were indeed a foreign concept to him. A wave of sadness welled up in her chest, clutching with a firm pang at her heart. She could sense Father's discomfort when put on the spot, as he seemed to be searching for anything that would fit the label of _personal interest_.

“I suppose mechanical repairs and rebuilds would suffice as a recreational activity of mine,” he eventually said, although he seemed to be faltering as if he was unsure whether it was a good enough response.

Leia couldn’t help but beam at that admission, inexplicably happy to have gathered that little tidbit of information. Somehow, it helped humanize Father.

“Really? I’d love to learn some of it,” she said with conviction, lowering her voice to a hushed near whisper before adding, “would you teach me?”

Before Father could speak up again, he stilled. 

Leia scowled in confusion, but then the smell of gunpowder filtered past her nostrils. Eyes widening in shock, she snapped her head to the side attempting to locate her adoptive parents among the sea of unfamiliar faces to warn. She opened her mouth to cry out, but the sound was drowned out by a loud, booming explosion. Leia felt the ground vibrating under her feet, heard the cracking noise of the pillars and carved out ceilings overhead protesting. A cloud of dust and dirt fell like rain, distorting the visibility of the area. 

Stumbling to stay upright, Leia reached instinctively to where her holster would be strapped to her thigh; concealed under her dress skirt. Only this time - she hadn't brought a blaster, or weapon of any sort. She staggered sideways, as another deafening crack shook the room; followed by unmistakable blaster fire and screams of panic as the guests began pushing and shoving past one another to race towards the exits.

Leia barely had time to take everything in. A wheezing, crackling noise - like a whip and sparking electricity combined - whirred past her ear. She recognized it, had fired weapons of similar calibers in the past as she was taught self defense. A highly powered automatic blaster rifle, and it was aimed her way - another shot fired, blazing right past her left cheek; grazing the skin enough to leave a mark even when she ducked out of the way in the nick of time. Then another, almost singeing the hair at the top of her head. 

She needed to hide, to get out of shooting range. It was clear that the blasts were aimed and intended for her, but as Leia attempted to whirl around; her feet became tangled in her own ungainly skirts and trail. Yelping, she found herself tripping and toppling over backwards; landing in a haphazard heap of cloth. 

She had no time to reflect on Papa’s horrified shriek, locking eyes with his frightened expression while she struggled to rip through fabric and free herself enough to flee. He ran towards her in the turmoil, ready to put himself between her and danger; to lay down his life for her. Finally tearing the trail clean off, Leia climbed onto unsteady feet but found she couldn’t locate Mama; the tiny Queen getting lost in the masses of evacuating guests. Papa became entangled and trapped with the panicked crowd, and Leia heard his protests and shouts to be let through. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, her sixth sense well attuned to the events occurring through the Force - she noted too late that she was once again being targeted. 

She didn’t have the time to take cover; stunned by another shot as it tore through the surface skin of her bare shoulder. She found herself disoriented by the sharp pain, unable to pinpoint the culprit. Covering her ears, Leia expected a repeat of that searing sensation as blaster fire inevitably came to blow a hole through her chest; to blow her head clean off. 

Instead a harsh, rough hand grabbed her slim frame with enough force to leave bruises. Without forewarning, she found herself thrown across the room, tumbling through the air in a graceless freefall until she landed with a hard thud; the air knocked out of her lungs.

Dazed but _conscious_ , Leia gasped for breath, numb and stunned by the unceremonious impact with the stone floors. Dizzy and rattled, she tried to get her bearings as she struggled to crawl onto her hands and knees - her head pounding, her injured arm thrumming with a dull, blunt ache. Getting into a half squatting position, she struggled to make out the features of the flickering shadows still present in the room, coughing as dust torn up by the explosion burnt her esophagus. Trying to call for aid; her voice got caught in her sore, raw throat and the only noise she could make turned into a hoarse, raspy whisper.

It was only then that Leia realized there were no more blaster shots. An eerie silence had fallen over the hall, the walls seemingly closing on - ready to come crashing down at any moment. Blinking against the dust particles in her bleary eyes, Leia darted her wide eyes around frantically. And then she heard it; a swell of relief overwhelming her, she sank back down into a legless, trembling mess. The sound of Father's respirator. Faster, a bit more strained and rushed of a pace than she recognized his breathing cycle to be; but it was there. As a reassurance, as a _safe haven_. All her strength giving out, the shock finally dawning on her, she shuddered.

From the rubble emerged a figure. Wiping furiously at her suddenly wet eyes, Leia raised her head to look up. Even with her pounding head, she could make out three individual shapes surrounding her. Growing in size as they closed in, beginning to take on physical form. Two men and one woman, their faces concealed by masks with slits for eye holes. Wearing shabby, mismatched body armour. Blasters in hands; cocked and ready to fire. She realized these were her assailants; and much as she could have fought off one of them by herself, she stood no chance against all three. The tallest man, probably their leader, raised one hand - pointing two fingers to the skies, before motioning them quickly in her direction. Leia knew that was an order for execution. They took aim, and Leia closed her eyes.

Nothing happened. 

Instead, Leia flinched, eyes flying wide open and she reared back as a large chunk of what had once been a marble pillar came hurtling through the air. It struck the leader square in the back; a _sickening crack_ echoing through the hall, as his body was squished between the sodden weight of the block and the nearest flat surface. The other two assassins turned their attention towards whoever had thrown the stone, one firing blindly into nowhere. The remaining man was aiming at nothing and anything in self defense, the woman cursing as she spun in slow circles. Leia could still hear Father's breathing. A shiver ran down her spine, when his telltale, heavy booted steps neared. And then, a towering figure stepped into view; Leia noting the faces of both the bounty hunters falling.

The man gave a loud shout, as he fired at Father who swiftly held up one large palm to deflect the blast. Meanwhile, he raised the other in the air; the first two fingers and thumb indicating a squeezing motion. Leia stared in awe, mouth agape as the woman was lifted right off the floor by an unseen power. She writhed, both hands coming up to claw at her throat, wheezing and gasping for air. The man fired again, Father taking a couple of steps towards him while he closed the fist that seemed to hold the life of the female assassin in its grip. Her windpipe snapped like a toothpick, crushed under his invisible choke hold and she dropped lifeless to the floor. 

Getting ready to blast again, the man found the rifle wrenched out of his arms - so hard that both his shoulders jumped out of their sockets. Howling in agony, he dropped to his knees. With two long strides, Father came face to face with the bounty hunter as he grabbed him by the collar and hauled him effortlessly into the air with one arm - keeping him at eye level. The man's feet kicked and dangled feebly in the air, his expression horrified.

" _Who_ sent you?"

"I - I'll never tell," the man rasped, almost sobbing as his dislocated arms dangled like limp socks at his sides.

“It was _not_ a question.”

“I - I had no choice!

"Do not test me. Your death may be swift, of you may suffer. Now, _who sent you_."

"The - the _Elite_ ," the man rasped, and Leia noted the tear that fell from his eyes.

For the first time, it struck her that Papa may have been _right_. Every story told about Father, and all the atrocious crimes he had allegedly committed. It might not be as much of an exaggeration as she'd assumed. It left her feeling cold, and uneasy. 

Still, she was unable to tear her eyes away when Father wringed the neck of the man who had been hired to murder her. He tossed the body aside like a ragdoll, before turning his attention fully to her. With a speed she'd never before seen him showcase, he practically rushed to her side to kneel before her; leaning forward as his large hand came up to gently nudge the fabric of her bunched up sleeve aside and inspect her wounded shoulder.

" _Leia_ ," he said, his voice a deep rumble.

It was the first time he had spoken _her name_. It sent a wave of love through her core.

Leia peered over his shoulder plate, at the corpses of the assassins Father had so easily dispatched of. There was a dread brewing at the pit of her belly, but it abated as she allowed herself to tap into Father's emotions. She sensed something akin to the remnants of what could only be panic, now settling into a loud, humming concern for her wellbeing. Father had feared he'd be too late, she realized then. She didn't care, at least he'd came for her, and as he cupped her cheek to smooth his thumb over the grazed area; she leaned into his caress. She could never fear him; she knew better. Knew to _trust_ him with her life.

"Is this your only injury?" he asked, as he withdrew.

Before Leia could answer him with more than a nod, someone else came bolting out of the thick, settling dust. The relief she felt the instant she made out Papa's gaunt face and unruly hair was jarring. He was _alive_. He stopped a few feet away, hands falling to his side and his chest heaving as he panted from the effort of the sprint. His eyes darted between Leia and Father, and then he huffed in what could only be gratitude.

"Leia, thank heavens you're safe!" he exclaimed, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

Wordlessly, Father rose up to step aside. As soon as he was out of the way, Papa threw himself on his knees in front of Leia and kissed her forehead; his warm hands gently cradling her bruised, tear streaked features. She winced at the blunt touch to her singed cheek, and Papa immediately softened his grip, offering her an apologetic glance.

"Sorry, I'm just - I thought you..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

Slowly, he turned halfway towards Father, palm still pressed to the unharmed side of Leia's face. He let out another huff, an inexplicable frown settling into his forehead. Then he shut his eyes, and gave a long sigh.

" _Thank you, Vader,_ " he said, and to Leia's surprise, the sentiment sounded completely genuine.

Father said nothing, simply keeping one palm pressed firmly to his side.

It was only then that Leia spotted it, and with a yelp of fear she abruptly jumped to her feet. Head spinning, she staggered to the side - caught swiftly by Father's strong arm grounding her, and she clung to it instinctively. She shook her head, clearing the blackness seeping into her periphery until her vision would focus again. Then, she stared in horror at the right side of Father's torso.

Blood stained the gloved fist he was clamping to the area, red lining the inner robes of his outfit. The splotched stain was growing although not rapidly, but Father seemed completely unfazed. His focus was only on _her_ , and Leia swallowed hard to bite back her confusion. Couldn’t he _feel_ the pain? Was he not going to mention it? She felt Papa's weary eyes on them, but she could tell that he too was staring at Father's wounded side, at the crimson fluid. He seemed almost transfixed, as if amazed by the fact that Darth Vader of all people might bleed.

"Let's leave for the private lodgings. Your Imperial escort is already doing what they can to put the guests at ease. Both of you look like you need to be patched up," Papa said after a brief moment of contemplation, raising his eyebrows at Father as if to dare him to refuse.

Father took a long look at Papa, and Leia could feel the cogs turning in his head as she remained trapped between his arm and the unscathed side of his chest. Then, with a noise she could only describe as a dismissive scoff, although it came out distorted beyond recognition through Father’s vocoder, he hoisted her off the floor with zero struggle. 

Leia tensed, fearing she may cause further injury, but Father simply held her close, one arm more than sufficient to balance and keep her in place. Relaxing somewhat, she rested the side of her head against the curve of his wide shoulder. The armour was harsh and unforgiving, but she found she didn't much care as she nuzzled her face into his cape.

"Lead the way, Viceroy," Father commanded.

Papa pursed his lips but simply motioned with one hand, as he began to lead the way to a more discreet location. 

Leia suspected they would end up at his apartment, and hoped _dearly_ that Mama would already be there, safe and sound. Father didn't even limp, despite the way his right hand remained tight as a vice where it pressed down on his injury. Despite the blotches of blood soaking through his under suit and robes, he moved with little struggle. Leia decided she would be the first to take a look at that wound, and to patch it up as best as she knew how. She wouldn't take no for an answer. 

At least it would help take her mind off of the fact that had Father _not_ been here, she might not have made it out alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some drama for this fic! It was much needed, and I hope it’s appreciated! I had tons of fun writing Vader and Bail bickering and being snarky towards each other. Hope you enjoy it, too!


	7. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ll have to remain a bit longer, I just need some affirmatives from my wife to make sure we’ll be safe in seclusion at the apartment. She’ll contact us when everything's ready. I… hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience for you, Vader?” said Papa, skipping all pleasantries in favour of a more direct, serious approach.

Leia found she wasn’t let go or allowed to move by her own volition, until they reached the precarious safety of Papa’s nearby shuttle. He had suggested they take to the air for a speedier and less ostentatious transportation, with an awkwardly gaunt expression as he expected Father to shoot him down in favour of walking the admittedly not unacceptable distance. But when Papa’s gaze darted briefly towards Father’s still profusely bleeding wound, he acknowledged the suggestion by an affirmative hum. Leia had felt herself relax, as Papa’s uneasy features softened and he nodded; leading the two aboard the small shuttle. 

Leia noted that despite the doorway being taller than a regular spacecraft - Papa was a statuesque man himself - Father needed to crouch a bit to fit inside. Once they were secure and out of sight, Leia thanked her lucky stars that the turmoil had raised enough calamity to allow them to slip away mostly seamlessly. Leia winced slightly when Father’s gentle hold on her let go and he rather gracefully set her down on wobbly legs.

“We’ll have to remain a bit longer, I just need some affirmatives from my wife to make sure we’ll be safe in seclusion at the apartment. She’ll contact us when everything's ready. I… hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience for you, Vader?” said Papa, skipping all pleasantries in favour of a more direct, serious approach.

“It matters little to me, but we must not waste time on dawdling.”

It was a warning, but Papa didn’t seem very affected. Instead, he simply sighed in response and slid down to settle atop one of the cabinets. Silently, Leia eyed the small lounging area crisp white durasteel, spotting the droplets and smears of crimson blood now staining it. 

_Father’s blood_ , Leia reminded herself. 

Pursing her lips, she glanced up at his towering visage where he stood immobile, domed helmet barely grazing the ceiling. He appeared unfazed, although she noted that one large hand was still pressing down against the injured area. A small surge of relief washed over her, as she noted that the blood flow had at least slowed down drastically. Still, she ignored the sting in her own wounded shoulder as she headed for the stowaway wall hinge. Pressing one fingertip to the sensor, she watched as the lid to the little hidden crawl space was revealed. 

“I hope you’ve restocked, Papa,” she huffed, as she stretched into the cramped expanse - only for her fingers to graze the familiar hard edges of the first aid kit.

“Hm? Oh, yes. You know there’s always emergency supplies aboard,” he answered after a short pause, and Leia glanced over to register that he was scrawling something on a notepad - probably the coordinates for the AI autopilot.

She didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she reached for the ledge and with a grunt and a wince of pain, she dragged the sizable box out into the open. It hadn’t been touched in a while, Leia concluded, because there was a thin film of dust gathering atop the lid. Fingers scrambling for the little hatch lock, she swiftly flipped the box open to reveal its fresh innards. Scanning the contents, she snatched several large sized bacta compresses, and a few rolls of bandages. She wasn’t sure how to make this work, but it’d have to do for the short trip. She knew Father would see a medical droid as soon as he got back onboard the star destroyer still lingering above Coruscant’s city nights skies. This was just a makeshift solution.

“Sit,” she said as she approached, Father shifting only to peer down at her with what she imagined must be a disbelieving look; she could feel the confusion despite being unable to see his eyes.

To her surprise, however, there was a poignant tang of amusement to the way in which he regarded her. She could feel it, and almost imagined he might be smiling behind that mask.

“Leia…” Papa nervously piped up behind her, as if he had _just now_ realized the weight of the situation they were in, as if he had been walking around in a shocked haze up until this point - and perhaps he _had_.

“Sit,” Leia simply repeated without faltering, raising her thin brows as she gestured towards the sturdy metal bench lining the right side of the lounge.

For a short moment, all was silent except for Father’s meticulously cycled breathing mechanism. Then, he simply turned, his large form cramped and inhibited within the tiny space as he took a couple of long strides to carefully settle down. Leia took notice of how slow, and limited his range of movement was as he did so, and she wondered if it hurt him to shift his limbs too rapidly. She knew of most of the cybernetic replacements, and implants he sported by now. She hadn’t asked him overtly about it, and he hadn’t told her - but she could sense where the living Force of his physical body began and ended. 

She knew his knee joints were made out of crudely merged together sinew, bone tissue and durasteel braces. She shuddered at the mere thought, a grinding sensation momentarily digging into the backs of her legs as she briefly imagined it. As if Father had sensed her thoughts, and channeled a physical demonstration of his daily suffering with her. He had made it clear that he didn’t wish for her to pity him and his situation, but at times he made it difficult _not_ to.

“I will be fine. You would be wise to see to yourself, rather than nursing me.”

Father’s choice of words was a bit harsh, but Leia imagined he may be secretly abashed, perhaps even embarrassed by coming off as so openly vulnerable in front of Papa of all people. It wasn’t as if they could be considered on friendly terms even on a good day. Papa himself gave Leia an apologetic, concerned glance; he rose halfway out of his seat to amend the very issue Father was vocalizing, and either tend to his daughter’s shoulder or distanciate himself.

“I’m alright. It’s not even bleeding anymore. You’re much worse off than I am, and I think it’s the _least_ I can do after what you did for me,” Leia pressed, and she meant every word directed at both men; Papa slumping back down in his seat in defeat.

She’d always been the type to push aside and ignore traumatic events. When she was eight, the woman who had nursed her since childhood died before her eyes. That, too, had been an assasination attempt aimed at her to spite her parents. Partly because she was their only heir, partly because she was an easy target. Papa had encouraged her at the time to speak about the event, to mourn and let it out. Leia hadn’t meant to stow it away, to lock it up inside. But she found it an easier way to deal with the memory of her beloved nanny, black smoke swirling from the side of her temple as her doe eyes went dull and grey. As her life faded away. 

At the moment, Leia couldn’t complain about the morbid ability to turn her impulses of. She would think about the ramifications later, right now she needed to preoccupy herself. When Father made no further protests, although she still felt his presence prodding at the back of her mind as if to reassure himself, she continued. 

Shuffling over, Leia pulled over the small cup holder and supply counter mounted near the wall. The magnetic device keeping them in place beeped, but the securing force field went down with a small justle. She positioned the counter right in front of Father, motioning for him to spread his legs a bit and he complied to make room for her without protest. Keeping the emergency supplies in her arms, she hopped atop the small surface; legs underneath her as she kneeled. It brought her about eye level with Father’s chest box; the blinking lights and buttons a comforting sight by now. She bit down on her bottom lip, brow furrowed as she set the necessary medical supplies aside on the cup holder. 

Bracing herself, Leia let out the breath of anticipation she hadn’t known she’d been holding as Father removed his bloodstained, gloved palm from the side of his torso on cue. Gently reaching out to pull the heavy cape he wore aside, she flinched at the sensation of caked, drying blood underneath her fingertips. Ignoring sticky liquid clinging to her skin, she hoisted the garment swiftly over one broad shoulder. In the bright lights of the shuttle, she could see the wound better and it looked a lot worse than she had assumed. She couldn’t understand how Father didn’t so much as limp or struggle with carrying her here; even _her_ previously pristine baby blue gown was smeared with blood that wasn’t her own.

The gash was fairly clean cut, the edges not too jagged but it was difficult to tell. The dark robes Father wore were tattered and damp, clinging to the lacerated skin beneath. The bleeding was slow, the coagulating hue at the sides of the gash slimy and the fabric just above Father’s belt was beginning to turn stiff and murky while the thick liquid dried. That was a good sign at least, and Leia realized she could at the very least clean the area up - instead of simply piling compresses onto each other, in hopes of preventing dangerous levels of blood loss. 

“Papa, can you hand me the tissue wipes and some water?” Leia inquired, craning her neck in Papa’s direction.

Papa’s gaze seemed weary, and a bit far away, but he did as requested. Gathering a handful of necessities, he placed them on top of the cup holder; although he did deliver a few right into Leia’s waiting open palm. Diving halfway into the hallway cabinet, he retrieved a couple of clear water bottles and sat them down on the bench, a small distance from Father’s looming shape. 

Instead of padding back to his previous spot, Papa got down to squat next to Leia as he peered over her shoulder at her handiwork, while she soaked the wipes enough to get them a satisfactory damp. Saying nothing, she simply used one hand to pull aside the tattered cloth of Father’s inner robes and protective undersuit. The flesh beneath had a harsh, craggy texture; yet it was smooth and felt extremely tender - as if it was made up of a jumble of healed scar texture, fragile enough to break under stress. 

“If you are finished with your gawking, you have my permission to proceed.”

Leia startled at the sudden rumble of Father’s deep voice, but nodded. Papa on the other hand reared back, head snapping up to regard Father’s face plate as if it may conjure any sentiment apart from its rigid lethargic sculpt. Wasting no more time, Leia pressed the wet cloth to the wound and began to gently, with much caution, clean the area little by little. She patted the gash in a circular pattern, until the previously cream coloured fabric had soaked up enough blood to come away deep red.

“Did you get any information out of the perpetrators?” said Papa, when Leia had worked herself about halfway through the ordeal - she knew the question wasn’t directed at her, so instead she listened inquisitively to the conversation as it started out.

It made a fairly interesting distraction.

“Yes. Their leader briefly mentioned the Elite as the culprit, before I dispatched him.”

“Mhm. And do you have any clue as to _who_ the Elite refers to?”

“Indeed. But I would presume you, too, are loosely familiar with their organization,” said Father, and Leia threw a quick glance between them.

“Will you tell me?” she pleaded, staring first at the hollow eye sockets of Father’s mask and sensing his ire brewing beneath the surface at the reminder of the harm they could have caused, then at Papa’s tired dark eyes.

“Yes,” Papa relented and shrugged softly; he too reached for a fresh cloth to gently dab it against Leia’s own battered shoulder.

She winced, but continued nonetheless.

“The Elite are mostly spoken of as a rumour, in hushed tones. They consist of a hidden faction within the Imperial top. No one knows exactly who the members are, or what their true purpose is - but it’s said they’re fiercely loyal to the Empire. They are individuals who wouldn’t shy away from offering up their own lives for the Emperor.”

“I thought that was what any Imperial employee is expected to do,” Leia stated shrewdly.

“That is a requirement, yes. But it is not in every employee’s best interest to serve the Empire out of selfless assessment. It is far more likely for the common officer, cadette or soldier to enlist for monetary purposes,” Father was quick to explain.

“Or you could just recruit them by _force_ ,” Papa interrupted bitterly, as he folded his arms across his chest in what appeared to be dismay.

“That’s not important right now,” Leia reprimanded him, intent on sidestepping an argument before turning back to Father. “Go on.”

“The Elite are a group of men and women, intent on eradicating any individuals within the Empire who may pose a threat to the regime. Whether they act solely upon their loyalty to the Emperor himself, or out of greed intent on increasing their own riches - they will die for their cause.”

“I’d presumed _you_ to be part of that group.”

Leia mentally rolled her eyes, but a part of her understood Papa’s confoundment at the revelation that Father was indeed not a member of this radical group of yesmen.

“I am not an idiot, Viceroy. I do not care for pesky riches, I have little need for attests of vanity. I serve the Emperor for as long as is necessary, in order to achieve my personal goals. What these are, you are not entitled to know. Either way, no, I am not part of this _fanatic cult_.”

“But you know who they are,” Papa concluded, stating it as if it were a matter of fact rather than a proposition.

“Yes. I will admit that I have my suspicions as to who the key players are, but I do not know each and every one precisely.”

There was a small pause, as Leia finished off her work. The wound was still bleeding, but the irritated area was dry and clean enough for her to apply the compresses directly to the skin. Piling a fair bunch into her tiny hand, she leaned in closer to Father’s chest as she gently applied one compress right beneath his peck. She held it firmly in place until it adhered to the skin, clinging to the flesh. Working her way downwards, she tore a bit at the already ripped fabric of his robes to make room for the small rectangular cuts of gauze. They smelled of saline and antiseptic lotion, as well as the sweet tang of bacta fluid. At least it was a less alarming smell, than the sharp musky tang of copper and iron that radiated off of Father’s blood soaked garments.

“You’re not a part of this organization,” Leia began, “because you wouldn’t die for the Emperor.”

Leia could sense Papa’s curiosity and the tension seeping back into his bones where he hunched beside her, the dabbing motions of his hand stilling briefly. He too was invested in Father’s response.

“I would not die for anybody, other than you,” stated Father, and Leia’s head snapped up in shock.

Staring wide eyes at him, the weight of his words slowly sunk in. He had never been so open and honest with her - _especially_ not in front of Papa. He had always been restrained and withdrawn when they had company, but as Leia tapped into their Force bond, she was greeted only by affection and it felt like coming home. She found herself a bit flustered, but also uneasy knowing he very well _could_ have died tonight had he been more reckless. She wondered if he always acted on impulse, or if it was only because she was involved that he had thrown himself headfirst into danger. Leia almost expected Papa to offer some sort of derogatory, snide remark to devalue the importance of Father’s admission - but instead she was relieved and even proud to hear nothing of the sort.

“That makes two of us then,” he agreed instead, and surprisingly there was little to no animosity in that declaration. “Either way, given your position of power and your rank, you are bound to know more than you’re letting on. You must at least have some of the names involved?”

“Perhaps. I cannot say for certain, but I do presume Grand Admiral Thrawn, Admiral Motti, and Rae Sloane may all be part of the initiates.”

“What about Director Krennic?”

Father let out an odd noise, and Leia thought it may have been an indignant snort. She could tell Father found the notion preposterous and was debating whether taking a jab at Papa’s pride was beneath him. Apparently he settled for a yes, saying nothing and letting the silence speak for itself as Leia finally made sure the last compress was adequately attached. They might not stay on if Father were to move about too much, but that was inevitable. 

Leia grabbed the largest of the rolls of bandage she’d picked out, eyeing Father’s waist and torso ratio for a moment to guess his measurements. She’d have liked to wrap it underneath his robes but she knew he wouldn’t undress - perhaps couldn’t, even. Instead, she simply used one hand to pull a loose hairpin out of her already messed up buns and pinned the end of the wraps to the tattered edges of Father’s bodysuit. She began to roll the bandages as best as she could around his broad frame with her tiny arms, cursing her lack of range. 

She felt Father shift, expecting him to take over and about to shoot him down, a determined frown on her face - when instead _Papa’s hands_ closed over hers; taking over the reins. She felt Father tense awkwardly as she scooted aside to give Papa room to work, both clearly uncomfortable with the close proximity to the other man. Leia almost chuckled at their stiff, stilted movements until Papa could hurry up and wrap up the bandages neatly - using that same hairpin to fasten the end and loop it back underneath itself to secure it. When done, he withdrew as if any prolonged time spent up close and personal to Darth Vader might infect him with some unseen deadly affliction.

“Not Krennic, then,” he awkwardly stated, face taking on a pale sheen as he paced over to lean in the doorway, hands on his hips.

“Krennic is a _nuisance_ at best, and he is at odds with Governor Tarkin,” Father stated, as if stating the obvious.

“You believe Tarkin is involved?” Leia piped up, reaching for the last bacta compress to apply it to her own shoulder; rubbing it in slow circles until it stuck firmly to her skin. 

“Yes,” Father confirmed, tilting his head briefly to the side and as soon as Leia hopped off her makeshift chair, he used the unseen hand of the Force to push it aside and get back up onto his feet.

The creaking metal noise of protest might just as well have come from his cybernetic joints, as from the bench he’d been poised upon. He stood tall, cape swooshing behind him as he moved to the corner of the lounge farthest away from Papa. This time, Leia did roll her eyes at their inability to get along like adults - gathering up the used supplies and dumping everything in the miniature trash compactor. She ignored the twinge of her upper arm, grimacing only vaguely when the adrenaline rush of the previous fear, and her current determination, began to abate. Legs slightly wobbly, she held her head high and willed herself back into shape. Only then did something strike her, and she turned her attention back towards Father.

“You think Tarkin is their leader.”

“Yes. He has the necessary resources, the influence and the power to found such a constitution.”

“It makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why he was present tonight at the event,” Papa chimed in, rubbing at his graying temples in the same way he always would when he had a headache oncoming.

“Oh, but it _does_. He was clever enough to divert any suspicions away from himself. He was never in any real danger,” Leia quickly pointed out.

“But why would he target me and my family?”

“Are you so naive you fail to comprehend his true motives for seeking to end your lineage?” Father scoffed, his tone mocking as he pointed one accusing index finger in Papa’s direction - it was a warning and a threat. “I am well acquainted with your nefarious, compassionate inclinations towards the Rebel Alliance. Were it not for _my daughter_ , I would long since have exposed your dallying with their treacherous allegiance to the Imperial council. It would be wise of you to either cease this precarious pastime activity, or to acquire the skill to adequately cover your tracks.”

Papa opened his mouth to argue as if it was a compulsory response, but it snapped shut immediately when he realized _what_ exactly Father had alluded to. Leia swallowed hard, it was only then she became aware of the serious peril both she and Papa were in. Two things were clear as day. 

One, did Papa indeed have some connections to the Rebel Alliance beyond being merely sympathetic to their causes. _That_ alone put a target on both his back, and subsequently hers and Mama’s. Two, if Father had figured it out and been able to track Papa’s illegal activities, what was to say Tarkin didn’t already know all he needed to see Papa both imprisoned and executed? What little colour remained drained from Papa’s face, his ashen complex making him look sickly, and Leia felt a pang of dread in the pit of her belly.

“This is _bad_ ,” he gasped, suddenly breathless with uncovered fear in his round, dark eyes. “What do you suggest we do now?”

“I suggest _you_ make contact with your wife, so that we may relocate imminently. We have already stayed here for too long.”

“Right,” Papa quickly agreed, checking his notepad one last time before scrambling out into the cockpit.

Leia closed her eyes in relief when she heard the familiar voice of Mama over the interior monitor speakers. At least she was safe, and judging by her request that they hurry over - once assured that her daughter was largely unharmed - Leia suspected she was just as rattled and urgent to see _her_ , as she was to see Mama. Soon as the shrill static indicated the end of the holographic call, the engines roared to a sudden jostling life. It would take them fifteen minutes at most to reach basecamp.

“What will you do once we get there?” asked Leia as the shuttle began to move, peering over at Father who had not moved an inch.

“I shall discuss our current predicament with the Queen and Viceroy, then I will make contact with the nearest Imperial outpost for escort off world,” he rumbled in his usual monotone, but his Force signature was charged with an antsy, palpable sort of trepidation.

“May I come with you?” Leia was quick to ask, indeed desperate to see Mama and embrace her - but she sensed Father needed her company more, and in the end both she and her adoptive parents may be safer apart than together.

“If that is your wish,” Father simply said; his aura radiating his unspoken relief at her decision to stay close to him where she may be directly protected by his hand.

Smiling softly at his dark clad visage, Leia found her legs carrying her over to him to reach out and slip her tiny hand into his large open palm without hesitation. She didn’t expect him to return the gesture, only wishing to anchor them both and ground their rising nervousness. To bring them both down to earth, and calm her own racing heart as the thoughts spun rapidly around her head. 

She was stunned to find that as soon as she made it clear she was going to keep her hand in his, Father’s fingers closed around hers with a deliberate mindfulness - so as not to apply too much pressure. It was an odd feeling, as Father clung to and simply held onto her hand, timid but urgent. Another smile tugged at the corners of Leia’s lips as she leaned into him, resting the side of her head gently against his strong arm. She shut her eyes, tapping into his heartbeats through their bond - she hadn’t even realized she had become so attuned to him. She fought back the dread once again welling up inside as a thought struck her.

“Do you think… do you think the Elite know about us? That… I’m your daughter?”

There was a long silence, Leia focusing on Father’s beating heart and his mechanical, steady breathing. She matched her own pace to it, inhaling and exhaling perfectly in sync with the respirator.

“I cannot say for sure, but I intend to find out.”

Biting her bottom lip, Leia nodded meekly before diverting the subject; unwilling to dwell on the consequences would that be the case.

“You’ll need professional medical attention.”

“Perhaps.”

“Can I stay with you? While they tend to you, I mean?”

Leia could sense that Father wanted to turn her request down, wanted to give her a resolute no. She had yet to see him without his mask and helmet, had yet to find out what his face looked like hidden behind that imposing exterior. She understood he must be gravely injured, judging by the fact that he was on constant life support - and by the texture and appearance of the sliver of his skin tending to the wound had revealed. Giving his hand a little squeeze, to empathize her longing to be able to look directly into his eyes if just for once - the wavering tone to his Force signature faded into a resolute certainty, _and he relented_.

“You may,” he concluded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I promise I am not abandoning this fic, but it's long. It takes time to write, and I want it to be the best it can be. I hope that's a good enough excuse for the time between updates, but there will be an eventual resolution! 
> 
> As for this fic, it's mostly fluff, exposition, and banter. But I think it works as a slow mid-piece, in the wake of the last chapter as well as what is to come. Now, that's a small spoiler for you haha.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and comment to let me know if so!


	8. Underworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you do not presume _my_ presence may draw unwanted attention, viceroy?” rumbled Father, his voice a note lower than usual - the ire unfiltered by his monotone vocalizer.
> 
> “We have no other choice, Vader. This is the best I can do with the circumstances at hand, we’re being hunted as is.”
> 
> “Indeed. Still, I wish to see the hologram your wife transmitted for myself.”

“This was not part of our agreement, viceroy.”

Leia flinched, stirring from her half asleep state where she sat pressed up against the wall of the lounging area. In the doorway, Father’s large form loomed as he remained focused on Papa who was still steering the ship from the cockpit. They’d been in the air longer than she’d expected, and she was beginning to worry Papa might have changed his mind, despite the fact that she _knew_ he’d never betray her. But she likewise knew Father was not entirely safe in their company. Glancing down at her sore shoulder, she was relieved to see her flesh wound was already beginning to heal and scab over - the bacta fluid applied working its magic. Father was still clearly injured, and still in need of proper medical attention, but he too was moving with less strain. That was another cause for relief.

“Perhaps not. But it is our safest bet. I was convinced you wanted to make sure Leia remains safe, as much as I do,” remarked Papa’s muffled tone.

“Indeed. However, I had presumed we were going to seek temporary refuge in your apartment, not commerce with the filth of the underworld.”

With a scowl, Leia slid off the seats as she slowly crept up behind Father. He was tense, and she could sense his irritation as well as his suspicions. He didn’t trust Papa one bit, and for good reason. Coming up to cautiously push past him through the doorway, she noted him look down at her briefly as his helmet tilted. She offered him a small, uneasy smile before moving on ahead to grab one of the spare cloaks off the nearby rack and drape it around herself. Even down here, there may be facial recognition devices installed that could monitor her through the transparisteel. As she pulled the hood over her head using her uninjured arm, she plopped down in the copilot’s seat. She noted Papa’s clammy forehead and his red rimmed, bleary eyes. But she could sense he too was determined to make their secret rendezvous successful.

Leia thought of speaking up, but soon forgot herself when looking out. The lights around their vessel seemed dim, the walls of each of Coruscant’s levels towering above and around them as they descended. Even when she leaned forward, she was unable to make out the top of the downward spiral but for a faint gleam overhead, and below stretched a harrowing, thick blanket of darkness. They were still descending, beat up freighters and speeders buzzing through the irregular traffic lanes. For each level, the inhabitants appeared all the more rugged. The pristine, wealthy Coruscant Leia had come to know all but vaporized, as the penniless and homeless underbelly reared its head. People sleeping along the walkways, curled up against filthy nightclubs and dead beat workshops. Narrow passages substituting alleyways, turning the areas into slums. Dirt, trash, and blinking lights. Without realizing it, Leia pulled the cloak tighter around her tiny frame as dread crept in. 

Papa had had dealings down here before, Leia was certain, because he seemed to know his way about. He glanced her way with a forlorn expression, before flipping off a couple of the interior lights. The shuttle they were using was not the fanciest the Organas owned - that one would have been carrying Mama and the royal guards - but it was far too conspicuous on these levels. Leia spotted a group of female twi’leks wearing clothing so revealing they may as well have been naked, hanging around outside what appeared to be a dance club. The flickering hologram displaying its name was unreadable, but the well endowed lady portrayed above it was still crisp - making the statement obvious. She and her cleavage provided some faint, bleary light to what might as well have been eternal night. No daylight would reach these parts, only an artificial illusion that made Leia’s eyes burn and her head buzz with an oncoming headache. The presence of millions of unknown residents, of refugees, of bounty hunters, criminals, defect droids, and creatures presumed myth for lack of encounters all but forgotten. Biting her bottom lip, Leia finally piped up.

“What are we doing down here, Papa? You said we’d stay at the apartment."

“Yes, I did. But that is not a possibility, I’m afraid. I received an urgency transmission, Mama was forced to evacuate and change route. The guards are keeping her safe, and she didn’t have time to explain herself. All I know, is that she pressed the emergency signal to let us know the plan must be changed, and that we can find a place to hide in the lower levels. I'm looking out for the person she assigned us to. We are meeting up with someone who can help us.”

“And you do not presume _my_ presence may draw unwanted attention, viceroy?” rumbled Father, his voice a note lower than usual - the ire unfiltered by his monotone vocalizer.

“We have no other choice, Vader. This is the best I can do with the circumstances at hand, we’re being hunted as is.”

“Indeed. Still, I wish to see the hologram your wife transmitted for myself.”

Papa pinched his lips tightly together and sighed barely perceptibly, but one glance at Leia who nodded to encourage the idea was enough. He responded with a small nod of his own, and pressed the replay button for the holo messages. The miniature mirror image of Mama showed up, her long hair askew and her dress sleeves tattered. She was clearly running, blaster in one hand and com-link held up to her mouth with the other. Papa was truthful, everything she said matched his description. Still, the cryptic way in which she mentioned they would find assistance with the help of an old friend perplexed Leia. She had no idea who her adoptive parents might consider a friend in the Coruscanti underworld.

“You’ll understand in time,” said Papa, as if reading her mind.

Leia wasn’t sure what was more eerie; Father actually being able to read her mind or Papa somehow reading it without any additional powers reaching beyond his human perception.

“I hope so. Which… level will be landing on? Won’t they come looking for us?”

“They will, and they most probably already are. It is imperative we exit this planet as soon as possible, and as soon as travelling measures can be arranged. Is your _mysterious ally_ going to be able to provide such assistance, viceroy?” 

Father’s voice was dripping with a dry, skeptic sarcasm that needed no inflections of tone to shine through. Leia watched him crouch down a bit as he entered the cockpit fully, reaching out one hand to flick the switch controlling the viewport’s tinting device. The surface darkened, hiding the innards of their current sanctuary to the outside world and offering a makeshift safety line. Without Father needing to speak up, Leia hopped out of her seat and moved aside in order for him to settle down. His heavy cape draped behind him, the pilot’s seat creaked and whined in protest under his weight. Papa looked significantly paler as Leia did her best to dodge Father’s large frame and move to stand somewhere between both her paternal figures. She kept one tiny hand on each arm rest.

“Are you implying my piloting skills may not be living up to your standards?” Papa grunted indignantly, but his hands had already left the right side controls and turned off the co-autopilot.

“Those are your words, not mine," Father stated.

Leia fought back the urge to roll her eyes, but she didn’t look away as she noted Father taking over steering with meticulous skill. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he steered the vessel as if he had been born to pilot a ship. The ride went from sufficient to smooth, gliding through the air rather than jerking side to side. Papa wasn’t a bad pilot, but Father was a natural. Giving him more space to navigate, she backed up a little closer to Papa’s seat and allowed him to loop a protective arm around her waist. She suspected he might want her to go back to the lounge and perhaps strap herself down, but knew she would protest so settled for holding her close. Leia sent a comforting, soothing calm vibe Father’s way that settled his jealousy as he glanced over to note their closure. 

“What is your data, Organa. I need the bay, the docking number, and the falsified identification you have no doubt obtained, in order to carry out whatever treacherous activities you preoccupy yourself with down here.”

“I--” Papa began as if ready to protest, but the ominous whinging noise of the vessel reminded him of _who_ he was dealing with.

Leia didn’t condone Father’s displays of his Force powers, but at times she felt it was necessary. Papa all too often forgot how powerful Father was, and even if he did not fear for his own life, Leia did. She had invested a lot of time in convincing Father not to punish Mama and Papa for stealing and hiding her after Mother’s untimely death. Papa was pushing the limits every time argued his point.

“Papa,” Leia said, pleading as she placed one tiny hand atop his large one and it seemed to do the trick.

“Alright. Level thirteen, southeastern docking bay. Third port, close to the walking platforms. I use the name Flare-wing, my code name is… Prestorn Oorn.”

“Oorn. I recognize that name,” Father muttered, as if mostly to himself - and Leia could sense how he was running through old, painful memories that brought back twinges of regret while attempting to pinpoint the connection.

“Yes. _Padmé_ would use the same surname, whenever we traveled together.”

“Do _not_ speak her name.”

Father’s helmeted head snapped towards Papa, his tone raised and the mechanical breathing of his respirator slightly quickened. Leia watched his gloved hands tighten briefly around the steering wheel, well aware that Father was still touchy about Mother’s fate and her memory. Still, she scowled and narrowed her eyes as she fearlessly stared into the hollow sockets of his face plate. His grip slackened, his shoulders slumping just a tad and she knew she had already won the standoff.

“I want to know more about Mother,” she said bravely, and though there was no visual reaction, the agony she felt pouring out of Father’s Force signature almost made her regret her prompt.

Papa seemed to share the same apprehension, his gaze darting rapidly between Leia and Father. Turning back to stare ahead, focusing on where they were heading, Father seemed to relent.

“You may carry on,” he simply huffed, but it was the permission needed.

“Padmé was… inherently convinced of the Republic’s corruption. She, too, suspected Palpatine had wishes to claim the role of Emperor long before he rose to power. When he eventually did, she was devastated. We were both present at the Senate when he declared himself such. Before that night, before the Jedi were... it doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is that she and I worked tirelessly to put an end to the war, that would see us maintain democracy and freedom. She never wanted the voice of the people to be taken away, which is why I believe you are very similar to your mother, Leia. You believe in similar ideals, and I _know_ your father is unhappy about it. Still, I’m sure he knows what is true, and what _your mother_ would have thought of the current state of the Galaxy.”

Leia could tell Papa was weary of speaking up despite his not so subtle jabs, and that he was still holding himself back. Father’s anger was easy to sense, but beyond that she could feel a knowing, solemn admission. Just as Papa said, Father was admitting deep down that Mother would not have enjoyed his position of power within the Empire. She wouldn’t have enjoyed reigning with little to no input from the people, without care. Leia had seen Papa and Mama rule Alderaan, she had seen the prosperity of their people. She never knew Mother, but from the visions Father had shared with her and the stories Papa had told her - Mother would have been proud to know Leia agreed with her political and humanitarian beliefs, rather than Father’s. 

Giving Papa’s hand another squeeze, she leaned back into him. At the same time, she ignored the painful twinge of her shoulder as she reached out to place her free hand atop Father’s forearm. She made sure to pour all of her love, all of her good will into that touch. She shut her eyes when she felt Father mellow out, as if he was giving up for now. It was another small battle she was grateful to win.

“So, Mother would go undercover with you, then?” she asked when she sensed Father would tolerate the conversation continuing.

“Yes. I would pose as Prestorn Oorn, humble astromech merchant on the black market. She would be my wife, Eeta. A lot of the secret information on Separatist leaders and insider spies on the Republic side was stuff we dug up while working. We weren’t the only ones, but I won’t dwell anymore on that. While I hope Vader will stay true to his word in regards to my safety, I cannot say I trust the same can be said for my contemporaries.”

“You are wise in making such an assumption,” Father pointed out, a bit less snappy than earlier, “Yet, you are foolish in believing Padmé would not have been swayed by mine, or anybody else’s efforts.”

The ire was back, brazen and threatening, but there was a sorrow lingering above all. Leia could sense it, and realized this was the first time Father had spoken Mother’s name aloud. She had been told through visions, through their mental connection, but never had he _properly said her name_ in a casual conversation. Or, almost casual. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she realized that, and when she looked up to catch Papa out of the corner of her eye, he too looked surprised. Leia let her palm slide up to rest atop Father’s shoulder armour, gently slipping beneath the cape to stroke his back tenderly. He flinched visibly this time, but did not withdraw. Instead, all Leia could sense was his pain. His presence prodded at the back of her consciousness, and it begged her for forgiveness. It revealed how he wished she could have met her mother, that she would have lived.

“It’s alright, Father,” she murmured aloud, feeling a pang of sadness strike her heart. “I _know_.”

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable. Not the same tense, oppressing atmosphere that would usually inhabit Leia’s surroundings whenever Father and Papa were forced into sharing the same space. Instead, it was a tentative, mutually restful understanding. No matter who was responsible, they all mourned the same woman. Leia mourned the mother she had never met, Papa grieved the close friend he’d lost, and Father lamented the wife he’d driven away.

Eventually, through the flickering lights, their aircraft came to a slow half stop. Father gently eased the shuttle into its position along the docking bay; where faded red aurebesh letters spelled the name Oorn, and the digits 44. Swallowing hard, Leia scurried into the lounging area. Papa followed her, reaching into one of the wall compartments to pull out a large, dark brown cloak. As soon as the conjunctive tractor beam had reigned them in, Father put the shuttle into standby mode for an easy escape if necessary. Then, he followed into the lounge where Papa handed him the robes.

“What is this, Organa?”

“You said you were afraid of drawing unwanted attention, _did you not?_ This is how we avoid that. I always carry a spare robe, as is only adequate. Indeed, I’m not quite as tall as you, but I’m not too far off so it should make a decent fit. Don’t you think?”

Leia almost snorted in amusement as Papa’s coy expression, one silver eyebrow raised as he smirked while pulling a second cloak over his head to complete his own disguise. Father stood still for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to obey, before sweeping the cloak over his shoulders and pulling the hood as far up over his head as it would go. His face plate would still catch the gleaming lights with its polished durasteel surface, but thankfully the darkness of the Coruscanti underground would amend some of that.

The first thing Leia took notice of when they stepped onto the platform - which was barely wide enough for Father, or Papa, to walk without putting one foot square in front of the other - was the _smell_. It reeked of decaying garbage, of spice smoke, of feces. It was a strong, repugnant, sweet-sticky scent that made her nauseous. Still, as Papa and Father remained unfazed, she held her head high despite her wrinkled nose. She settled for breathing through her mouth, as they lined up in a row. Papa glanced about, taking the lead with Leia in the middle, and Father in tow. At least Leia felt moderately safe with two armed men of their stature for company. She could feel eyes upon her, and when she accidentally made eye contact with a Rodian male she felt her skin crawl. The blatant lust in his eyes reminded her of the night Father had saved her from the Imperials attempting to assault her, and forced herself not to panic. Instead, she kept her gaze on her feet to sidestep suspicious looking puddles in odd colours. She didn’t want to know what they were, but she could imagine quite a few substances they might be composed of.

Peering from behind the hood of her cloak, Leia noted several ratty bars and nightclubs lining their path. Still, as they took a sharp left into a narrow backstreet; the blaring music and chatter of rowdy nightlife died out while they hurried down twirling, twisting alleyways. Leia felt she lost her bearings, like she was travelling through a maze with no direct end. Still, Papa appeared certain and so, she didn’t question it. Not even when she noted people clad in rags huddled up among the trash cans and garbage piles. 

“Be careful,” said a man's voice, Leia almost yelped when startled by its sudden appearance.

It took her a couple of seconds, and she barely managed not to stumble or squeak, before she realized the voice was Father’s. _His real voice_ , as it filtered directly into her mind. She swallowed hard, only glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was still following right behind her despite the fact that she could hear his heavy, booted footfalls.

“There are predators down here not even I can subdue with ease. They call the first level their home, and we should be too far up for them to pose a threat. Still, they may sometimes venture out of their habitat for food. Be mindful,” he explained silently, and Leia nodded her head with a hum of acknowledgement. 

A sudden wave of paranoia struck her as a rattling noise hurried past them, and Leia snapped her head to the side only to spot a bottle fall out of an unseen, drunken man’s hand. She exhaled in relief, quickening her steps.

“Thanks, now you’ve got me worried,” she telepathically shot back through the Force, pouting and refusing to admit the dread that was now simmering at the pit of her belly.

“Be at ease. Borrats don’t get much bigger than two meters.”

“ _What?!_ ” Leia shrieked, forgetting herself as she spun around to stare wide eyed up at Father.

Papa whirled around behind her and shushed her sharply, and only then did she realize her error as she slapped both hands over her mouth, blushing with embarrassment. She glared at Father, who stood immobile but Leia could sense his amusement. Something told her he was grinning out of spite behind that mask, and when this side of him came out - however rare it may be - Leia wondered whether _this_ was what he was like before. When he was still a man, when her mother was still alive. Still, she mouthed a soft _‘sorry’_ as she faced Papa who simply shook his head and motioned for her to trail along.

“ _Thanks a lot_ ,” Leia spat through their connection, but the only response she received from Father was what might have been a silent laughter; its ripples soft, and warm, and genuine as they washed over her and she could only smile.

They passed a couple of more quick turns and slithering paved passages, before Leia took noticed of a fourth cloaked form lurking in the shadows up ahead. She could tell Papa and Father were both focusing on the same area. Feeling weary, she wanted to ask, but when she noted Papa speed up as they neared what was a very subtle hidden doorway disappearing into what might have come off as just another brimstone wall, had she not been watching so closely; she realized they’d reached their target. Papa threw a quick glance around before he finally extended his hand to the cloaked figure, his shoulders sagging with relief and his harsh expression softening.

“There you are. I was beginning to think you might have bailed on us,” he uttered with a hushed breath.

“Seeing as I know _who_ you’re bringing with you, I was weighing my options,” a spunky female voice replied, serious but not devoid of humor as a slender hand took Papa’s to shake briefly. “Come on.”

Without another word, the stranger slipped into a narrow crevice along the wall. Leia could tell Papa and Father wouldn’t fit, but she heard a couple of quick beeps and the concealed door slid open just enough for the large men to fit through. Papa went first, Leia hurrying after him and finally Father followed. Leia noticed how the cloaked woman shifted to jab in the command code a second time, but Father swiftly moved his palm aside and the door slid automatically shut behind them. The woman - who couldn't be much taller than Leia herself - regarded them for a short moment in silence, before beckoning for them to follow with her first two fingers. She led the trio in a quick pace down a twisting stairway, the only light a handheld glowrod she swiftly flicked on. It was cold and damp, and drafty as a slight breeze came from below. Eventually, they reached a crossroads, and Leia assumed the area was a meeting point between catacombs to hold the many unnamed bodies of the dead that had never been reclaimed, and a makeshift sewage system. It smelled here as well, but less than above surface due to the cooler temperature.

Two more turns, as they ventured through a hidden underground pipeline. Wallowing ankle deep in wastewater, they finally reached a ladder with a screwing hatch atop. The woman whose face was still unseen stepped aside as she urged them silently to climb up. Papa went first, unscrewing the lock and popping the lid open. Once he did, a warm orange glow filtered down through the opening to blind the group. Still, Leia fumbled to climb after him as he disappeared from view; squinting against the blinding light. Strong, big hands gently lifted her up when she reached the top, and she found herself put down in a cramped room littered with utilities, and scrap. Around the walls were boxes, cartons, durasteel rods and bars, and broken cargo holders - closing the small space off to the outside world. It appeared deserted, if not for the sparking noise of twitching exposed mechanics on the other side of a trash heap.

It was only then Leia looked behind her, watching Father unceremoniously scramble through the open hatch. Behind him followed the petite woman, and she quickly turned around to lock the entrance behind them. She huffed and settled down on her knees before pulling the hood back to reveal a cocky wide beam, and tousled black hair. Her dark almond shaped eyes seemed coy and mischievous, the aviator’s cap atop her head was slightly askew.

“Well, well, what have we here? I thought I’d seen the last of you, viceroy Organa. But, as you would say, everything can be bought for the right prize. Even my silence,” she chirped. “Welcome to my humble quarters as of recently. The name’s Aphra, for those of you who _aren’t_ aware.”

“Archaeologist by profession, is that not so?” Father pointed out, and Leia glanced over at him as he folded his arms across his chest. “This is hardly sufficient lounging for a citizen of _your_ caliber.”

“Ah, so _this_ is the fabled Lord Vader. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Aphra shrugged with little regard. “Don’t bother with the fear mongering, you need my services and as long as you do, I have no qualms with you.”

The woman chuckled, before turning towards Leia who felt slightly uneasy, like she was being studied for possible weaknesses to exploit. Then, she watched Aphra’s brash exterior soften a bit, as she approached to reach out one gloved hand.

“Princess Leia, I presume? A pleasure. Except for your Pops and Lord Tincan, I’ve never been in such close proximity to royalty. I’m looking forward to delivering you to safety, once this is all over with,” she said, and she sounded sincere.

Leia pursed her lips, but when she reached out she could sense no ill will or malice. She knew better than to trust someone like Aphra, but she would at least trust that she was on their side until whatever deal Mama and Papa had made with her ran its course.

“I am, likewise,” Leia finally agreed, and shook Aphra’s hand in earnest.

“Has… our final guest been notified?” Papa suddenly inquired softly, and Leia frowned.

“ _I warn you_ , Organa. You have been keeping more than enough from me, without revealing your schemes. We are already too much of a crowd,” Father barked, his looming presence a menace and with the fury now reigniting in him - Leia noted how both Papa and Aphra seemed to cower a bit; their eyes glowing with a thinly veiled fear that had not been there before, when Father pointed one accusatory index finger at them.

“Yes, and I am aware of that. Still, I feared you would not condone my reaching out for help. I and Breha have long been in contact with people you would deem… unfit for company. We are awaiting one more person, with insider knowledge that might help us get a lead on The Elite’s next move. Is that not what you want?”

“ _I_ wish for you to share your planning with me, if _you_ wish to remain unharmed throughout this most unfortunate ordeal.”

“He will. Right, Papa?” Leia interjected as soon as Father took a threatening step towards Papa, rushing forward to take his large hand in hers and cling fervently to it.

It worked, as Father faltered and stalled. Stilling to look down at her, she hoped she could reinvigorate the scraps of his already short patience.

“Very well.”

“Good. She should be here any minute, if her tracking signal was on the mark before she turned it off,” Aphra said, stretching her arms above her head before crouching down near the makeshift tunnel granting her access to what must be a second room. “Any of you hungry? There’s food. Canned, but it’s edible. Oh, and I heard there were injuries, I got bacta shots by the box. They’re legit, just, you know, not acquired through conventional methods. I mean, I have boxes. A lot of boxes, full of shots.”

“Are you hungry, Leia?”

“No, I’m alright, but we could use a box of shots until we get off world,” Leia ushered, noticing Papa’s furrowed brows but she wasn’t lying, she had no appetite with the foul smell still lingering in her nostrils.

“Suit yourselves. I’m gonna eat, then I'll dig up one of them boxes. Oh, and princess, you can sleep in my bed if you’re tired," Aphra simply said, as she disappeared into the tunnel of debris.

Without a word, Papa settled down in the farther corner where two walls met and leaned his head back. Leia watched him shut his eyes, and knew he was attempting to get some rest. She assumed tomorrow they’d be travelling off world, likely with a second untransmitted vessel. Scooting aside, Leia got down on her hands and knees, and found a wooden cargo holder stuffed with pillows, quilts and blankets. She assumed that was Aphra’s bed; the tattered fabrics having to make do as she crept into the space and laid down. At least the stained pillows were soft. Unable to sleep, she felt her mind running a mile a minute, but her body would at least relax if she stayed put. Instead, she watched Father settle down across the room with his legs folded and his palms turned upside down atop his kneecaps. She heard his mechanical breathing slow down its circuit, and she realizes he was meditating. He had told her it would help him heal quicker once to tune into the Force, when she’d wondered what good it would do while he taught her to get into the right state of mind. 

Relaxing, Leia tuned into his mind and felt a _serene peace_. That was unusual. Most of the time, Father’s meditative trance would be a firestorm of rage and suffering, infecting her from afar like a plague. This was more like tranquil, warm embers. Like a clucking river stream, or the wind rustling the tree leaves on Alderaan Summer mornings. Enjoying the sensation, Leia allowed herself to settle down and shut her eyes. She might have been able to fall asleep like that, tuned into Father’s psyche, had she not been startled by the metal clanking of someone scaling the ladder towards the hatch entrance. Eyes snapping open, she sensed a presence; _another Force signature_. Her head shot up, and she watched Father wince as he was ripped from his ruminations. Still, there was no move from him to act, to stop the potential intruder.

“Father,” Leia whispered under her breath, and though she couldn’t see it, she felt him open his eyes - and along with that came a wave of remorse and _apprehension_.

“She’s here,” said Papa’s voice from the shadows where he stirred from his light slumber.

As soon as he spoke, the lid opened and another robed figure popped through. It was a woman, lean and slender and graceful in her languid movements. She was Force sensitive with an overpowering presence, her grace and power radiating off of her as it filled the room. Gentle, and kind, but brave and bold. She backed off cautiously, reaching out a graceful tan reddish hand and it shut effectively behind her - solidifying Leia’s premonition of her abilities. A wave of _pure anxiety and anguish_ shot from Father’s direction, along with a deep sadness from the stranger. Both emotions were so jumbled when they mingled, that they made Leia’s head hurt and her heart ache; nearly enough to bring tears to her eyes.

The woman settled a small distance away from Father, and finally uncloaked her face. Atop her head sprouted the tall blue and white striped montrals of a togruta, lekku matching those falling down to her waist. Two in the front, one in the back. Her face was beautiful, mature and refined, with white markings lining her brow and cheek bones. Her eyes were of a deep, piercing blue shade and as she noticed Leia’s curious scrutiny, she gave her a weak, strained but true smile. Leia could sense that this woman knew Father well, and he knew her.

Then, the woman took a deep breath and turned towards Father who was still fixed on her - blatant in his shock, despite his concealed facial features.

“Hello, Anakin. It’s been a while," she said, in a forlorn tone.

"Ahsoka."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, added two more characters to the mix and I now know pretty much how the rest of the story is gonna play out. This is also by far the longest installment, but hopefully it'll be worth it. On top of that, we will see more and more of the old Anakin coming through as this goes along so expect more nods to that to pop up along the way. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this one! This fic is not abandoned so fret not, simply taking my time in between school work to write it and get it done! Thank you all for enjoying it so far!


	9. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am Ahsoka Tano. I… was once the apprentice of your father,” said Ahsoka, lacing her fingers as she withdrew to rest her hands on her lap. “I would like to tell you, I was also a close friend of your mother’s. You resemble her very much, Leia.”
> 
> “I have been told that before,” Leia admitted, people would always mention the resemblance - even those who were not aware of her connection to the late Queen and senator Amidala of Naboo - and Leia wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment, or as a measurement for what greatness was expected of her when compared to her mother’s many successes.

“Who are you?”

Leia scrambled into a half sitting position, suddenly tense and wary as her eyes darted between Father’s expressionless black mask and the woman’s - _Ahsoka’s_ \- mournful blue eyes. She held her head high with an inherent grace and dignity, the aura of her Force signature both welcoming and proud. Certain tangs of its presence even reminded Leia of Father’s. It was enough for her to know that this woman was an ally, but she could tell there was a lot of unfinished business between the two. Even so, she sensed no ill will and no hints of deception. Ahsoka was genuinely willing to aid them, and as such, that was all Leia needed to accept her. Still, she was curious. She recalled the name from somewhere, but couldn’t pinpoint where it had been brought up. It struck her that the woman may have been present in a few of the visions from the past that Father had shared with her.

No doubt picking up on her thoughts and feelings, Ahsoka shifted towards Leia to scrutinize her. The sad tinge to her aura grew in magnitude and a weak smile briefly touched the woman’s lips. She glanced at Father who had not moved, then towards the small tunnel Aphra had disappeared through earlier. Finally, she noted Papa's presence with a reverent, greeting nod of acknowledgment. Then, she once again locked eyes with Leia.

“Hello, young one. Leia, is it? It’s my pleasure to meet you, my dear,” she spoke, her tone just as soft and silken as before.

Ahsoka sounded tired, and she looked weary. Thin age lines framed the corners of her eyes, as well as her lips. She sighed, before repositioning herself into a meditative stance mirroring Father's, but without any intent of going into a similar trance. It was clear that Father was not going to return to his previous state of peace, either, until this was resolved and Leia found it a shame.

“Yes. Leia Organa… or, uh, _Skywalker_ in this case. Both work for me,” Leia amended, when she felt Father’s jealousy stir. “You never _did_ answer my question though. Who exactly are you?”

The woman's smile was suddenly warm, holding her slender hand out for Leia to shake. Leia accepted the gesture, with what she hoped was a friendly approach.

“I am Ahsoka Tano. I… was once the apprentice of your father,” said Ahsoka, lacing her fingers as she withdrew to rest her hands on her lap. “I would like to tell you, I was also a close friend of your mother’s. You resemble her very much, Leia.”

“I have been told that before,” Leia admitted, people would always mention the resemblance - even those who were not aware of her connection to the late Queen and senator Amidala of Naboo - and Leia wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment, or as a measurement for what greatness was expected of her when compared to her mother’s many successes.

“I’m certain you have. But I can tell you have your father’s mentality.”

“Why are you here.”

Father’s deep voice was just short of a growl as he interjected, threatening and demanding all at once. It was not a question, but a statement. The tendrils of the Dark Side that had been giving way to serenity earlier seemed to return tenfold. Leia shuddered as the temperature began to sink, the stuffy heat of the closed off room vanishing when the darkness took the upper hand.

“I am here to offer you my help. Queen Breha contacted me, because she knew where to find me and she knew the lot of you would need assistance. I, too, am interested in exposing The Elite for the scum they are. Indeed, the Emperor is no better - neither are you, for that matter - but with the majority of the most powerful figureheads of the Empire executed, at least the Alliance and their efforts stand a chance.”

“Of _course_ you would align with the rebel spies,” Father snarled, his hands beginning to turn into tight fists.

Still, Ahsoka was not that easily intimidated. She simply shook her head, huffing as she folded her arms defiantly across her chest.

“I know a time when you, _too_ , would fight for justice,” she simply remarked. “Yet, this is neither the time nor the place for a political discussion. What I _am_ aware of, is the fact that you are in need of medical care - and the group as a whole is in need of transport off world, as well as an inconspicuous hiding place. I happen to be able to provide that transport. I owe you, Bail, for your priceless aid in our organization. I owe you, Leia, on behalf of your late mother. And, you…”

Ahsoka trailed off as she turned to meet Father’s gaze through the mask’s stoic lenses. She remained silent for a short moment, as if to qualm the inner emotional turmoil Leia could sense in her.

“Anakin, to you I owe _my life_.”

Leia had expected Father to deny Ahsoka’s use of that name. She knew he despised being addressed by it, knew he refused to acknowledge it half the time - wishing to distance himself from his own past, and the events that led him here. Still, as Ahsoka’s honest, pleading expression prevailed - he appeared to relent, inexplicably. Instead, he tilted his helmeted head forwards as if to bow down in agreement. Leia noticed how Papa’s slightly clammy forehead and the pale sheen to his cheeks seemed to be settling back into a more healthy flush, as his nervousness over the reunion abated. He had been fearing the worst when drawing Ahsoka into their group, but seemed to be more positively inclined towards Mama’s choice of cooperators now. When the woman continued, both Leia and Papa let out the breaths they hadn’t known they’d been holding.

“Now, listen. As far as the information I have gathered, we have about six standard hours to rest here and make our preparations. I can provide a freighter shuttle to take us off world, as well as false identification. However, as far as I can tell, there’s some injuries needing an overview to heal. I need to know how critical these are, in case we’d require a pit stop at, say, a star destroyer with bacta tanks to spare.”

Leia cast a quick glance down at her shoulder. It was still tender, but would be fully healed in a day or two with luck. Father was another matter. Although the blood still staining his inner robes was now dry and stiff, there was a tiny, fresh stain seeping through the compresses.

“That will not be necessary. We have two options for recovery while we lay low,” Papa interjected before Leia could speak up. “As far as I am aware, we can either buy ourselves some time stopping by the twelfth moon of Idori, or we can dock at Bespin in Cloud City.”

Ahsoka hummed in agreement.

“Idori would no doubt make a safer option. Less high ranking Imperials. There are a couple of squadrons of storm-troopers positioned on the surface, but it’s not a prioritized planet. There are no known natural resources to exploit, and the troops are only installed as a reassurance to prevent revolt among the inhabitants. However--”

“However, Bespin provides far superior medical care and equipment,” Father stated in a cool, factual manner. "Which may save us the time we _do not possess_."

Leia studied Ahsoka’s grim expression, her nose wrinkled. She felt the same way, an anxious sense of apprehension bubbling in her chest.

“But won’t Bespin be crawling with troops and officers?” she asked.

“Not necessarily.”

Papa’s voice was slow and thoughtful, as he stroked his bearded chin; the cogs turning in his head. It meant he was coming up with a strategy, his serious approach a clear sign that he was working out the finer details in his mind before presenting the scheme to the group.

“Vader, what would _you_ expect our odds with Cloud City are?” he finally said, raising both eyebrows and holding Father’s stare as he awaited a reply.

“I am of the belief that the odds would favour an attempted midlanding in Cloud City. As long as they keep a code transmitter for us to acquire, I shall be able to contact my most loyal men. They may then provide us with a fully functional vessel, under Imperial protection.”

“How do you know Cloud City will have the type of transmitter we need?” asked Ahsoka, pursing her lips.

“You forget that I am well aware of how to engineer such a device out of the adequate components. All I need is a functional transmitter circuit,” Father drawled, and Leia almost thought she noted a catty _pettiness_ to the words.

“Of course. I forgot I’m dealing with the _boy prodigy_ who built a blasting droid when he was still a kid,” Ahsoka rolled her eyes, and Leia couldn’t help but be impressed by that reveal; wondering why Father had told her so little of his past.

“Y’know, not to favour one opinion over the other, but I think the tincan may be onto somethin’.”

Aphra finally reemerged through the tunnel of litter, carrying a heavy necessity bag. Effortlessly, despite her small stature, the woman shoved the bag out into the open in front of her. It knocked into the opening hatch with a clanking noise, and toppled over. Out poured a couple of jugs of water, several ration bars, and three packs of bacta syringes; unused, needles still wrapped up in separate compartments.

“Ain’t gotta thank me now. So, kiddo, you want one of these? I’m figuring we prep _old daddy darkness personified_ over there with the rest of ‘em,” she shrugged, crawling out to settle cross legged atop an empty wooden cargo box.

“I’m alright,” Leia smiled softly, grateful for the offer but she knew it wouldn’t speed up the healing too much, instead she tilted her head in Father’s direction. “I think it’s better we give Father what we have.”

“I will sustain myself.”

“Yes, I am aware you can - but you don’t _have_ to. If we inject you with a couple of these, we might buy some more of that time we don't have, and avoid lingering at Bespin for too long,” Ahsoka argued, throwing her arms out with as she snapped; a bit of spunk and stubbornness shining through.

Father seemed to relent somewhat at that, and Leia could sense the sadness he always carried with him intensify. It felt poignant, and Leia said nothing. Instead, she shed her makeshift cocoon of tattered quilts and cloths, to crawl out into the open room. Picking up a six-pack of bacta shots, she began the task of stripping them free of their confines. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and thought she sensed Father wanted to play down the severity of his injury, she knew he wouldn’t resist her attempts at nursing him.

“Alright, so we go to Bespin using your freighter, Ahsoka. And then what?” Papa spoke up, shifting as he reached for a couple of ration bars - and Leia suspected he’d been skipping meals today, he always did when nervous or strung up, stress getting the better of him.

“I have a couple of folks owing me a favour or two,” Aphra chimed in, already munching on a ration bar she’d kept jammed down the breast pocket of her vest. “The city is littered with gamblers and lowkey smugglers. They like to think no one knows what the city is really built on, or the fact that their feigned neutrality is just an excuse to keep their alignment with the Empire a secret from other unaffiliated systems. We might be able to trade in the freighter for another, case the first step of the plan backfires.”

“Of course, it’s an open secret that any overproduction of tibanna gas goes towards financing the Imperial upper classes.”

Papa’s tone was bitter and cold, his jaw hard set as he unwrapped his food without taking his accusatory gaze off of Father’s face plate.

“Are you sure there’ll be any ships up for the taking?” Leia finally piped up, glancing over at Aphra as she tilted her head to the side. “We’ll need to be sure there’s going to be a transport vessel fitting all of us, an Imperial escort would be far too eye catching. On top of that, it needs to have a functional hyperdrive.”

“Don’t worry about that, little one. Both I and your father are used to reinstalling and repairing a damaged hyperdrive or two,” Ahsoka smiled reaching out to give Leia’s forearm a gentle squeeze.

Had this woman been just any other stranger, Leia might have been uncomfortable with the touch. Instead, Ahsoka felt like a friend she’d always known, a family member she’d never known she was missing. The pain and hurt between her and Father was still very much palpable in the Force around them, but it was also tender, intermittent with an affectionate glow - and a striking _remorse_. Without thinking about it, Leia placed her delicate hand on top of Ahsoka’s and squeezed it gently. When she beamed at the older woman, the sliver of teeth peering from between her lips was a genuine display.

“Alright, so this is the full plan,” Papa said in an authoritarian voice, finishing off his last ration bar before continuing. “We use the freighter Ahsoka has provided to travel through the asteroid belt of Alitzar to Bespin. Here, we dock at Cloud City under false identities, produce a transmitter to contact Imperial forces loyal only to Vader. Then, we steal a preferably untraceable ship from the docking bay, and use it to dock with and board the destroyer Vader’s personnel have provided. Have I missed anything?”

“You didn’t mention that we should _blow up_ that stolen ship once it’s run its course,” Aphra pointed out, a wry smirk on her lips and she tilted her aviator’s cap backwards.

Leia listened attentively as she fished out the third shot from the pack, connecting the needle to the vial of blue fluid. Without an administrative medical holder, she had to make do with her own physical strength. Once again separating the layers of torn fabric and dirty bandages, she made sure a sliver of Father's scarred skin remained exposed. Counting to three in her head, she jammed the syringe into Father’s side right between his bottom ribs. He didn’t even flinch or waver, as if he couldn’t feel the prick of the needle point at all. Pressing down on the puncher, she distributed the contents fairly patiently. She knew there were some people, and species, more sensitive to bacta who may be affected by a high resembling that of a spice addict on a trip. Father did at least not fall into that category.

“Yes, definitely. And what do we do once we board the destroyer - given this works out the way we want it to?” Papa mused, running his hand through his graying hair.

“We use the computer system to track down data on the Elite. I have a cryptographer on my staff, viceroy. Indeed, I have also been notified of the fact that the archaeologist over there makes for a talented hacker,” Father rumbled, clearly annoyed by the insinuation of the plan’s possible failing.

“If you were able to do that to track them down, why haven’t you before?” Papa scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Because it was not a necessity _until now_.”

Leia fought back the urge to sigh and roll her eyes at the bickering, finishing off the last injection with nimble fingers. Tossing the supplies aside into a heap of discarded ration wrappers and dirty rags, she too grabbed something to eat for sustenance. It appeared she had adapted Papa’s bad habit of skipping meals when wound up.

“I think we should all get some rest. You said we had six hours, didn’t you?” Leia pointed out, looking to Ahsoka for answers.

“Indeed. I think you, the viceroy and Aphra should sleep,” she agreed, before settling back into a position that matched Father’s; hands turned palms up and resting on her kneecaps, legs folded.

Leia noted how Father too straightened up, but he seemed much more relaxed. Leia knew he would prefer to meditate due to the state of his body, rather than sleep. He’d once told her sleep wouldn’t let him rest, and while he’d never said it out loud, she’d picked up the fact that he suffered from horrendous nightmares from their telepathic bond. Not only that, his marred body would be stiff and sore, and painful when he woke back up.

“So you two aren’t going to sleep?” she asked just to make sure, as she crawled back into her makeshift bed.

“No. Someone has to guard the rest of you, huh? I and your father will be awake and alert, should any suspect activities ensue. Your safety is what matters, and our lives depend on this plan working as is. Sleep for a few hours, Leia. Tomorrow will be rough on all of us.”

Father offered a curt, barely perceptible push of encouragement through the Force which was enough to reassure Leia. If Father trusted Ahsoka, and Aphra, so would _she_.

The box that served as Aphra’s bed was rather spacious, and when Aphra hopped off of her makeshift throne, Leia scooted aside to give her space. Aphra simply shook her head with a grin and a wink, only to snatch one of the pillows and climb back onto the cargo holder. She curled into a ball, and pulled the goggles down over her eyes as a semi functional blindfold. Leia glanced over at Papa who simply leaned his head back against the wall like earlier, fingers twined atop his belly. Focusing back on Father and Ahsoka, she watched the togruta close her eyes and take a deep, steady breath. She felt the same serenity that had surrounded them earlier seep back in, as both Father and Ahsoka were plunging themselves into the trance-like state of Force meditation. If Leia wasn’t so exhausted from the earlier shock, she might have joined them. Father had taught her how to become one with the living Force before, but she wasn’t able to do it out of her own accord without assistance yet. Instead, she rested her head on her arm and prepared for sleep.

“What are you going to do about the Emperor?” said Ahsoka’s voice suddenly, although it didn’t take long for Leia to realize the voice was only in her mind, and it was being channeled to her through her connection to Father’s Force signature - the _actual_ target of the question.

“He is not involved with The Elite, rather he is the idol their organization worships,” Father replied, in that soft voice of a man that seemed so much younger than his visage would have one believe.

“Yes. And he will find out about your daughter. What then?”

“Then, I shall deal with him as _I_ see fit.”

Leia felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end, an icy shiver running down her spine at the weight behind those words. The earnest, brutal honesty - and the jaded apathy Father displayed showcased a frightening look into his mental state, and his ways of justifying actions he may not always be very proud of. It cut like a dagger, and Leia tangled her hands in the blankets surrounding her.

“Will you kill him, if the situation requires you to?” Ahsoka’s voice spoke again, buzzing through the atmosphere like a lullaby, its sentiment tangible.

“The Force will decide that. I will do what I must to keep my daughter safe.”

“Then you _are_ the Anakin I know.”

Ahsoka’s somber, heavy hearted aura shifted to allow a bit of relief - of hope - to pass through its cracks. Leia could tell it bothered Father, that he found it naive - but at the same time, deep down, another part of him seemed to revel in her fleeting happiness.

“No, I’m _not_. I’m different now,” he declared in a harsh, almost condescending delivery.

“But you’re still _Anakin_.”

This time, Ahsoka’s words were uttered; the silence of Papa’s soft snores and Aphra’s wheezed exhales broken by the powerful implication.

“Yes,” was Father’s only reply as he relented, and no more words were exchanged between the two before Leia dozed off into a far too short, far too light slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another chapter. A bit of exposition, emotional unravelling and scheming. There's gonna be more action coming up, don't worry! But I felt this was a necessary installment for the plot, and I did enjoy writing the dynamics so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far!


	10. The Game Is On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you said the joint was abandoned, tincan,” Aphra huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she shot Father a defiant look.
> 
> “It is. However, I cannot say for certain there are no regular security guards.”
> 
> “Why would Tarkin bother with that?” Papa interjected, the suspicion clear in his dark eyes.
> 
> “It is _not Tarkin_ I am weary of, Organa.”

“We should split up,” Papa grunted, scanning the close surroundings for possible spies as he stepped through the hidden doorway to follow Aphra out into the murky darkness of the Coruscanti underworld.

“We can’t, you’ll be dead if they catch you!” Leia protested, voice high pitched and still groggy from the insufficient slumber she’d been unwittingly ripped from.

Aphra had been kind enough to borrow her a fresh set of clothes. They weren’t high quality, but they almost fit - except for the arms and legs of the jumpsuit being a few inches too long. Still, it made for a better disguise than her tattered royal gown, the simple pants and tee much less eye catching. Father was moving with a lighter step than last night, so the bacta injections and the meditation must have helped him heal somewhat quicker. Ahsoka was crouched behind the rest of the group, stalking like a predator in the shadows hunting its prey. What little Leia knew of togrutas and the planet their species originated from, Shili, was that there was no shortage of dangers and formidable creatures, such as the formidable akul, to dodge. She wondered whether Ahsoka’s stealth was inherent to her genus, or if it had more to do with her Force wielding abilities. 

“The viceroy is correct. As are you, my child,” Father pointed out, his deep voice alert yet monotone as always - the respirator’s breathing slightly less pronounced than usual, a precaution no doubt. “He does run the risk of being executed on sight. However _we as a group_ run a far greater chance of reaching success, should we split into two factions. There is also the possibility, that should The Elite and thus Tarkin be aware of your heritage, they may keep the viceroy alive long enough for interrogation. If so, I may be able to extract him at a later point. Either way, we have no safety in numbers.”

Leia swallowed hard, biting her bottom lip to conceal the way it trembled. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she knew Father was right. He was experienced in these kinds of missions, he’d been a general in the Clone Wars. He must have been on countless missions just like this one, running for his life. Although Father never directly told her much, she’d done her research on _Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker_ in her spare time. She’d been sure to use Father’s encrypted passwords and codes, and had come to learn that Father had been very much revered by the populous as a fearless hero. She trusted his judgment, despite the footnote she’d memorized noting his _unorthodox_ methods and strategies.

“Alright. But if Papa is harmed, I'll never forgive you,” she said, making sure her voice was level enough to deliver the seriousness of her statement.

“I give you my word that he shall survive this ordeal,” Father said, waving one dismissive hand but his Force signature revealed that he understood the weight of what he was promising her. “Still, if what we fear is the truth, _you_ are the primary target, little one. The assassins were hired to subdue _you_. As such, I am convinced they would waste little time on the viceroy, knowing you are still free. I believe we ought to split our group as follows; the viceroy and Aphra shall take the eastern passageway. You will retrace our steps as of last night, and defect from the route halfway through. There, you shall find a complex of abandoned citadel prison holds. These have been on lockdown and in disarray since the rise of the Empire. When you reach position, you will contact me and I shall provide the blueprints for the ventilation systems. You will use these to maneuver unseen through the complex.”

“I thought you said the joint was abandoned, tincan,” Aphra huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she shot Father a defiant look.

“It is. However, I cannot say for certain there are no regular security guards.”

“Why would Tarkin bother with that?” Papa interjected, the suspicion clear in his dark eyes.

“It is _not Tarkin_ I am weary of, Organa.”

A shared sense of dread became to settle in, as Leia realized the impact of those words. She noticed Papa’s sudden ashen complex, and Aphra’s frustrated scowl. Ahsoka showed no fear however, only a resolute determination where she still lingered in the doorway they’d appeared from.

“So, which way do _we_ go, then?” Leia finally asked, desperate to shake the fear of the thought that the Emperor may be involved in the plot to get rid of her.

“You, I, and the apprentice shall return to the sewage pipes. There is a shortcut beneath the warehouses and nightclub systems.”

“Papa is the diversion, should we be apprehended.”

It was no question, and Leia couldn’t restrain the harsh look she offered Father when uttering those words. She knew both Papa and Father would happily trade both each other’s and their own lives for hers. It wasn’t a thought she particularly condoned, but they had no choice. Time was running out. Bracing herself she hurried to step forward and take Papa’s large hand in her smaller ones. She gave it a squeeze, clinging to it as long as she dared and hoping to convey her regret at the necessary decision to abandon him for now.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Leia,” Papa said, smiling sadly as he shook his head, using his free hand to smooth back Leia’s unruly masses of dark hair, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “We’ll meet up in a few hours, and then we’ll be ready to put the actual plan into motion. Trust me, this isn’t my first rodeo. You’ll be safe, you have two Force wielders with you. I don’t need that solid of an entourage.”

“I trust you,” she assured, allowing Papa to pull her hood up over her head, tucking her hair behind her ears before cloaking himself; giving Aphra a quick glance and with that, they both took to a fast but casual stride down the alleyway.

Leia didn’t want to watch him leave, as he disappeared around the first bend of the maze that had led them here. Instead, she turned towards Father who motioned wordlessly with one arm. Obeying, she watched Ahsoka slip back into the darkness as she followed, hopping through the hidden doorway with Father right behind her. As soon as they were inside, Father used the Force to silently close the passage off; breaking a couple of empty pipes and shifting a large durasteel cargo lid to cover the secret entrance. The pipes creaked and moaned in distress, a thin layer of dust raining down from above as the tiny sliver of dim, gray light the door to the outside world had provided was swallowed up and snuffed out by pitch black darkness. A second later, the humming lull of the glowrod Aphra had lent them came on.

“Do you know the way, or should I lead?” Ahsoka asked, raising the light in front of her like a makeshift torch.

“It matters not who leads, as long as we reach our destination," Father drawled sarcastically.

“Were you two always this petty?” Leia huffed, she’d meant to think it but even if she hadn’t spoken the words aloud; she was fairly sure the two would have picked up on it.

“I wasn’t. Can’t say the same for your father, though” Ahsoka smirked, peering over her shoulder before starting out with a slow jog; taking the narrow stairway in a few long bounds.

The woman moved as if she weighed nothing, and Leia found it a bit difficult to follow her pace without stumbling, but she did her best. She didn’t want Father to take to carrying her, with his still healing wound. He didn’t seem very well prepared to run on his own, but his long, stalking steps were enough to match Ahsoka’s swift, athletic movements. Leia found she felt at least a little safe, trapped between the two. For the first time, she caught a gleam of the hilt of a lightsaber strapped to Ahsoka’s belt when her gray cloak shifted aside. She knew she should have expected it, but she was still surprised and curious to note the weapon. Two armed Force wielders for bodyguards ought to at least get _their_ half of the group safe up to the takeoff point.

Leia realized she was a tad out of practice, and out of shape, and opted not to speak so as not to lose any breath while they moved. Instead, she regarded the miles of intertwining sewage pipes they traversed through. Large and cavernous, the ceiling looming far above them to allow even Father to stand tall. Some pipes provided a narrow walkway, which Ahsoka informed her were checkup points leading up to nearby crossings. If they were to run into trouble, these areas would be the most likely to offer unwanted company. Every once in a while, the rusty ladders leading down from street level may be used to transport workers down into the fathoms below for repairs or scheduled checkups. Still, judging by the disarray of the sewage system - no clogging fortunately, but Leia could tell both by the smell and by the peculiar contents of the mucky fluid they waded through, someone was sleeping on his job. As such, the risk of them being halted was substantially lowered.

Only stopping when Ahsoka did, Leia tilted her head to the side to spot what the reason for their abrupt halt was. She found it, as a gaping hole in the middle of a crosspipe. It went four ways, wastewater gushing like a waterfall of greens and browns from each severed aqueduct. A horrific stench made its way from the netherworld, the _odour_ overwhelming Leia’s senses and she had to fight back the urge to gag and retch. Promptly holding her nose, she peeked over the edge into the abyss - watching what could be likened to an underground dam stretch out beneath them. There was no visible end to the water deposit, its surface stretching on and expanding far beyond what little the light of their glowrod could illuminate.

“Alright, looks like we’re gonna have to jump,” Ahsoka said, already crouching back as if preparing herself for the leap. “We’re going straight ahead, so shouldn’t be much of an issue.”

With that, she tossed a coy look over her shoulder, raising the pale white markings lining her brow bone - almost as if they were deliberately created to mimic human eyebrows - and jumping. She soared through the ear, as swiftly as if she were flying; landing elegantly on her feet with zero struggle. Turning towards them, she motioned for them to follow, beckoning with her right hand. Hesitant, Leia inched closer to the edge of the torn up pipeline. The gap could be no more than four metres across, but Leia wasn’t exactly a large girl, and she’d never trained enough to rely on the Force to aid her in such a leap. Biting her lip, she turned towards Father for some sort of guidance. She feared he may chastise her apprehension, but instead she found that he placed a large hand on her slender shoulder - as _encouragement_.

“All will be well,” he said in his deep voice, and Leia believed him; as she sensed his certainty, firm like a guiding but gentle urge through their connection.

Reinvigorated, Leia took a couple of steps back to gain leverage before rushing straight ahead. She crouched, squeezed her eyes shut and took off. Five steps and she felt the soles of her boots land halfway off the edge as she pushed off. Fully focused, the rush of air blowing her hood back she landed barely within range of the other side, touching down on wobbly legs. Her feet stumbling, her robes askew and she yelped as she felt herself slip in the mucky mess beneath her feet. Luckily, before she could dive nose first into sewage contents, a strong hand caught her by the arm to steady her. Leia winced, her injury making itself known, but quickly steadied herself with the help of Ahsoka's support. She swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand, finding it clammy with her previous trepidation, and gave Ahsoka a bashful, yet grateful smile.

“Your father is right. We got you, young one.”

Leia could sense the truthful sentiment behind those words, Ahsoka already having begun to dart ahead again when Father made his way across the gaping hole in the ground. He didn’t jump as much as muster an extra long stride to breach the empty space. There was no struggle, no faltering, his head held high and his back straight in a dignified posture as if the hole had been nothing more than a crack in the pavement. Even Ahsoka had had to display a bit of resolve to make the jump, but Father seemed unfazed. For the first time, Leia found herself wondering _just how powerful with the Force Father may be_. She’d seen how he dispatched the bounty hunters hired to slay her; he'd swatted them aside like they were nothing but pesky flies. Like they were vermin, like they stood no chance. Holding that thought in her head, Leia decided to stow it away for questions at a later date.

Silence fell over the trio, the only constants being the sloshing sound of their wading through the muck, and the all encompassing darkness. Finally, Leia thought she caught a glimpse of some sort of faint light up ahead. Squinting, she tried to pinpoint its source. Relying on her company's perceptive nature, Ahsoka and Father didn’t seem weary, and she couldn’t sense any additional presence near them. She was fairly sure that if there _had_ been someone or something hostile awaiting them, the two would have noticed by now. As if Ahsoka had read her mind, she spoke up.

“We’re taking the right tunnel when we reach the light source. We’ll stop at the walkway and get out of this mess. Coming up next, there’s a ladder followed by another stairway. If we’ve done everything right, we’ll pop up in the maintenance shed of Or’lo Kotza.”

“I was under the impression that we would be _free_ of obstacles,” Father pointed out, and Leia knew he was beginning to doubt Ahsoka’s honesty.

“We _will_. Or’lo won’t be in today. He happens to be an acquaintance of mine, he helped me get back on my feet when I first left the Jedi Temple. I’ve paid him extra credits to keep his service closed for a few hours. It’s enough for us to pass unnoticed, and once we’re out on the streets, the docking bay is right there. My ship will be waiting for us, and with some luck, so will the viceroy and Aphra.”

“I do hope so, for your sake, apprentice,” Father warned, and the silent threat in his approach was easily delivered by the chill of the Dark Side emanating from his aura.

“You’ll find that I’m nothing, if not honest,” Ahsoka shrugged, a dry sarcasm that was eerily similar to the one Father had used previously colouring her tone as she scowled. “Let’s press on.”

Just as Ahsoka had said, they scurried towards the light source - which turned out to be a trapdoor lock, blinking to indicate it was securely functioning. Turning right, a broad walkway rose above the filth they’d been making their way through. Leia wasn’t sure whether she was more relieved to be quit the worst of the stench, or the strain on her legs wading through sometimes knee deep waste. Ahsoka hopped with ease onto the extended platform from which the durasteel ladder could be accessed. Leia knew she wouldn’t be able to reach it, but before she could voice that complaint; she felt herself tossed haplessly through the air into a pair of slender but strong arms. She bit back a squeak, realizing the arms belonged to Ahsoka, and she was already atop the ledge. Wide eyed, she glanced down at Father, who barely even took aim before leaping up to join them. The platform was tiny, and it groaned under the strain of Father’s cybernetics and their weight; the small square footing cramped as they huddled together. 

“I’ll go first, to make sure the coast is clear," remarked Ahsoka.

Father’s reply was a silent sense of impatience, as he looped his thumbs into his belt. Ahsoka simply huffed, before scaling the ladder in one fell swoop. When she reached the top, she punched a code into what appeared to be a security device, turned the hatch and popped the lid to freedom open. Gracefully, the woman slipped through and Leia felt Father’s hand on her upper back intently guiding her towards the ladder as a demand that she climb. Pouting, she agreed and ascended the steps until she too could exit the sewage system - gasping to suck in the fresh, albeit stale, air of the basement lodging she found herself in. With a bit more finesse and struggle, giving Father’s size and sometimes hindered mobility, he too managed to crawl through the opening and kick it shut behind him. The bottom of his long cape, and robes, drenched in muck. Leia found her and Ahsoka’s outfits were no better off.

Nothing else was said, as Ahsoka took the lead up another spiraling, narrow set of stairs. Leia watched Ahsoka’s third lekk as it moved from side to side across her back with each step, keeping focus on it to force her mind to remain calm despite the stressful situation around them. An intricate striped pattern of bright whites and deep blues, the colours popping and drawing her full attention after having been submerged in darkness for so long. At the same time, she listened only to Father’s heavy booted footfalls behind her, and the breathing circuit of his life support system. Once they found themselves at the top of the stairway, Ahsoka shoved aside what appeared to be a rather simple wooden sheen door. Once they passed through, Leia was relieved to find that Ahsoka had been honest. They were _indeed_ in a rather sizable maintenance shed; judging by its contents, it targeted both droid and vehicle repairs alike. What Leia suspected were scraps salvaged from battle grounds during the war time, as well as bags of compactor station hauls littered every corner. On the heavy durasteel workbench, a service droid lay picked apart with an open toolbox casually placed right next to it.

“Takes you back in time, doesn’t it?” Ahsoka’s voice suddenly said, she was half whispering but it was enough to produce a tiny echo within the naked walls; a fondness to her reminiscing. “I remember what your room at the Temple used to look like.”

“That is of no concern to me now,” Father shot her down sharply, and Leia didn’t miss how Ahsoka winced, or the disappointment painting her expression with a somber scowl.

“No, I guess it isn't. But it’s a nice memory, all the same.”

As if by luck, Father’s built in cuff transmitter beeped weakly. The red hue it gave off, was enough to warrant their attention, and Father quickly answered.

“Viceroy. I assume you require the blueprints to continue your sidequest.”

“Yes, that _would_ be helpful,” Papa’s muffled voice admitted, the connection flickering only briefly - giving it a shrill, static quality.

“Very well. How long will it take you to cross the complex?”

“Twenty minutes, tops. Given that the map is reliable.”

“It is. You have twenty minutes. We meet at the takeoff point, do not fall behind. We cannot wait for stragglers.”

“Roger roger, Lord Vader,” Aphra’s cheery tone chimed in, mimicking the mechanical tone of a long since outdated separatist battle droid before promptly ending the connection.

“Anakin, we have to go now,” Ahsoka’s urgent tone compelled as she once again took the lead, rounding one corner to disappear behind a scrap pile.

Father said nothing, but Leia sensed the anger as well as the immense pain and remorse that name still instilled him with. She wondered whether Ahsoka was purposely out to raise Father's ire, or if she was hoping the use of that name might awaken some sort of long gone warmth inside his heart. Leia knew Father loved _her_ , of course, but he was not a very sensitive man. Not outwardly, at least. Perhaps things weren’t always so, and Leia decided that she would discuss it with Ahsoka later. Maybe she could aid the woman in her quest, and get to learn more about Father in the meantime.

Following right behind Ahsoka, Leia was glad to see the woman had already cleared the coast outside the backdoor entrance of the workshop in the guise of a shed. It was just as drab and dark as it had been earlier, impossible to tell whether it was night or day time; but for few shy lights overhead providing enough aid for them to turn off the glowrod entirely. Ahsoka moved with her shoulders pulled up, listening intently as she slowly placed one foot in front of the other. Leia tried her best to mimic the movements, and Father proved to be unexpectedly stealthy when necessity demanded such. _Finally_ , as they reached the end of the backstreet - Ahsoka pointed one finger towards a medium sized commodity freighter.

“That’s the one. Inconspicuous enough for the route we’re taking. Unfortunately, I’m in dire need of a copilot so I’d consider it my luck to be riddled with two,” she chuckled with a crooked smile.

“I do very much hope _you_ intend to claim the role of copilot.”

“If Ahsoka’s your old apprentice, shouldn’t she be able to fly _at least_ as well as you do?” Leia heard herself saying, empathizing it with a casual shrug.

“Leia has a point,” Ahsoka simply agreed, when Father remained silent. “C’mon.”

With that, the trio straightened up and waltzed with little care straight into the open streets. It was fairly empty, except for a couple of drifters and Leia suspected that those who _did_ have a job down here, were likely in the middle of it right now. It offered some comfort and security. She almost thought the ordeal had come to pass too easily when they reached the ship without issue, Ahsoka letting her guests inside the roomy freighter. There wasn’t much of a lounge, but if they remained in the cargo hold, they would have more than adequate space. Exhaling, Leia sunk down with her back to the cold durasteel wall and shut her eyes. Finally, she felt safe enough to catch her breath and rest her aching feet. She heard the fuel engines as they began to turn on, the brewing sense of worry and unease at the pit of her belly dissipating when Father stalked up to kneel awkwardly before her. 

“The viceroy has five minutes to spare. Let us hope he uses them well. Meanwhile, you may rest, my child.”

Leia shook her head, opening her eyes to study Father’s face plate closely even as his large hand reached out to cup her jaw, and tilt her head upwards with a surprising tenderness.

“I can’t rest now, Papa will make it and I have to--”

“No. You can do no more for him now. The Force will decide his fate," Father interrupted, tone firm as he disiplined her.

“Bu--” Leia began, already gearing up to argue her point and protest against the notion, scrambling to get back up.

“Rest,” was all Father said, speaking over her as he moved the tip of his index finger to her forehead, applying a light pressure right between her furrowed eyebrows.

As the world faded away into a blurred haze; _rest Leia did_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! The plan is now in motion, and I promise a lot more action to come. As well as insight. I hope. Anyhow, enjoy this installment! I had fun writing it.


	11. Charred Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
> 
> “Huh?” Ahsoka startled, eyes widening a bit and she tilted her head to the side, a curious light colouring her expression and Leia tried to clarify what she meant.
> 
> “You mentioned his name, _Obi-Wan Kenobi_. Is he the bearded man from Father’s memories?”

_The heat._

_Scorching, suffocating._

_Leia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. The searing pain of flames ravaging her flesh, leaving charred smoldering charcoal in their wake. Pyre and lava, billowing smoke vandalizing her airways; vaporizing her scleras, eating away the soft palate of her throat._

_Excruciating, the anguish so overwhelming it left her numb and whimpering at once. The terror so raw, the livid rage unhinged. She felt so many contradictory emotions. Sorrow, betrayal, jealousy, fury, scorn. Hopelessness. She would surely die here. Embers burrowing into her skin, the air thick and dry. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t think. She was alone, she would die alone. They all abandoned her._

_Despite the agony, despite her waning sanity she saw through muddied eyes, how her own skeletal arm extended forwards. Cybernetic, a fake mockery of a human appendage surviving the unforgiving brimstone. Pulling her along the gravel, ripping and peeling the skin off of her stomach, her torso. She would not give in. She’d never relent. She was too afraid of what may become of her, were she to die._

_A woman, pearly tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Her hazel eyes glassy, her voice breaking as she spoke. Leia couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she felt a tremendous, overwhelming guilt. Through the suffering, her artificial hand reached for the beautiful maiden. Instead, the woman’s visage turned to dust and scattered to the wind. Behind her followed a bearded man. Auburn hair falling into his eyes, disbelief and regret etched into his features._

_Leia didn’t know his name, but she loathed him. It was an inexplicable, uncontrollable emotion. Vehement, all consuming. She wished to see him dead, wished to be the bane of his existence. Wanted him to suffer on her behalf, to burn in her stead. Still, somewhere behind the sorrow and the hatred withered a deep seated love. She loved the woman, despite her denial. She loved the man, despite his betrayal. Would they ever forgive her? Would she ever see them again?_

_A cackle._

_The roaring thunder, the pyring embers, and an ungodly maniacal laughter. Ringing in her ears, growing in magnitude; and Leia tried to scream as glowing, golden bloodshot eyes found her. As clawlike, bony fingers reached for her. She screamed with all her might, but not a sound would push past her lips. Only a choked wheeze, a broken cry for help. This was a living nightmare._

_She had only herself to blame._

Waking with a start, Leia gasped - eyes shooting wide open, only to find that she was staring at the bare bones ceiling of a freighter cargo hold. Panting, she struggled to catch her breath; skin clammy, glueing her long loose strands of hair to her face, and her damp clothing to her skin. She shivered, the cool air a contrast to her own feverish, lingering nightmare induced haze. Sitting up, she sighed and shuddered, rubbing her bleary face with both hands. She was no stranger to frightening dreams, but this one had been particularly vivid. Every intense emotion, every sensation as real as were they _her own_. But they weren’t, she realized. They were a memory, a vision.

“You saw it too.”

Leia dropped both hands to her side, looking up to see the distinct outline of Ahsoka’s montrals; her voice carrying a mixture of dread, and determination. The light spilling from the lounging era, revealed they were alone nestled among the empty equipment boxes. Leia looked around herself, only to realize that the makeshift blanket she had been draped in consisted of Father’s thick, bloodstained cape - and that neither Papa nor Aphra were to be found. Swallowing hard, her eyes darted back to attempt to find Ahsoka’s in the dim light, and as if she already knew - Ahsoka moved her hand gracefully through the air, increasing the barely existent glow of the leds lining the upper walls until Leia could just about make out the woman’s beautiful face. She saw the bright blue of her eyes, the white of her lekku pale as snow and nearly iridescent in the gloom. 

“Where is Papa?” she asked, terrified of the answer.

“He and Aphra were apprehended. Don’t worry, they managed to escape and we’ve been in contact with them. They found another freighter, the viceroy bribed the owners it appears. Either way, we are meeting up at Bespin as was predetermined. Calm down.”

“But they’re safe?”

“Yes. For now. We’ll be coming out of hyperspace soon, and should be ready to dock at Cloud City,” Ahsoka nodded, and Leia could sense the resolute honesty from her. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“That’s why Father… made me rest,” Leia struggled to find a suitable word; Father not so much made her, as he had forced her into a deep sleeplike trance of sorts.

“Yes. He didn’t want to see you worry, I don’t condone his course of action but I understand it. Anakin was never one to think of other people’s emotions, as much as his own. He’s not selfish, per se, but he does view everyone through his own lense. I always thought him to be the kindest man alive, when I first became his apprentice, but I’ve realized he was only kind to those who mattered to him, or to those he was able to relate to. Those who meant something.”

Running both hands through her messy hair, Leia shifted to inch back and lean against the rough interior wall. She pulled the cape around her shoulders like a quilt, grabbing fistfuls of her waist long strands and weaving them together into a loose fish braid over her shoulder. She felt the heart hammering in her chest, along with disappointment and anger. She wished Father had told her, rather than promptly sending her to sleep. She understood his actions, but as Ahsoka said, it was a selfish decision. Father all too often took away her choice, and would do things his own way. That was one thing she found she disliked about his approach to matters, and hearing Ahsoka’s words; she realized that was a trait inherent to him, rather than something he’d picked up during his solitary years of seclusion.

“Can I speak to Papa?” she asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“In a bit. He’s going to message us, as soon as their vessel is in orbit. We’ll meet up at the port, if we can time our arrival. If not, we’ll meet up as soon as they make contact. With your father piloting, I have no worries.”

Leia nodded, pulling the cape up under her chin. It smelled of durasteel, synthetic fabric, and a distant tang of iron - Leia purposely doing her best to bypass the remaining stench from their travelling through the sewage drains. 

“How did you meet Father? I know you were his apprentice, but how did you come to be his student?”

“Well, I suppose your Papa has told you about the Clone Wars,” Ahsoka said softly, shuffling back and Leia noticed that she was avoiding eye contact.

“Yes,” she confirmed, never taking her own gaze off the older woman’s face; the fine lines under her eyes suddenly became more defined, as if the reminder of her sombre past had made her visibly age.

“Your father was a Jedi Knight at the time. The Jedi hierarchy could be categorized as masters, knights, padawans or learners, and younglings. Anakin had been officially knighted not very long before master Yoda, the leader of our order, decided I would become his student. Initially, I was supposed to be mentored by Anakin’s former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, but master Yoda felt it would be better if Anakin became my tutor.”

Leia knew some of the ins and outs of the now extinct Jedi order - what little Papa had told her. He’d often said the Galactic Empire was wrong in its relentless pursuit of the Jedi, and that many of the now dead knights had been close friends of his. She knew that Father had been a Jedi, of course, but he’d never told her much. She’d been shown a few visions, memories of a distant past. She had seen Ahsoka in them, recognized her face despite the fact that the girl in the visions couldn’t be much older than Leia herself in the present.

Ahsoka, Mother, and a bearded, kind looking man. Leia had wanted to ask more about the girl, who she now knew was Ahsoka, as well as that mysterious man. She could tell Father was still pained by the memory of them, and she didn’t want to press on - but sometimes she had a feeling Father would be better off sharing. Keeping everything inside seemed to be his biggest flaw, and she wanted to help. From what she had gathered, he hadn’t always been as stoic as he had become. Ahsoka had hinted at him being a rather emotional young man, once, and Leia could recognize herself in that.

“Was he a good teacher?” she asked.

“He was the best one could hope for. He wasn’t like the other Jedi. The order had rules against forming attachments, they preached letting go. Anakin was different, and I suppose that…” Ahsoka trailed off, her gaze darting towards the cockpit before continuing. “I suppose that’s what made Palpatine target him.”

“I… Father hasn’t told me much about anything, really. Most of the things I do know, come from visions he’s shared with me. I know more about my mother than anyone else, but even that is only really scratching the surface.”

“Padmé Amidala was a remarkable woman. You resemble her quite a bit, on the outside. But I think a lot of your heart comes from Anakin. That’s not a bad thing, even though I know people who would beg to differ,” Ahsoka smiled, but the infinite sadness in her eyes remained.

Leia hesitated, biting her lip as her gaze darted towards the cockpit area as well. She didn’t like sneaking behind Father’s back with her questions, but something about his Force signature told her he was expecting her to. Perhaps, he was counting on Ahsoka explaining the things he didn’t have the means, or the emotional capability of telling her. Swallowing hard, Leia picked at a hangnail; fixing her eyes on her fingertip to distract herself. Her mind whirled back to the vivid dream, its lingering sense of dread never quite slipping away. The man in the nightmare, with the auburn hair and the sad eyes. The bearded man.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Huh?” Ahsoka startled, eyes widening a bit and she tilted her head to the side, a curious light colouring her expression and Leia tried to clarify what she meant.

“You mentioned his name, _Obi-Wan Kenobi_. Is he the bearded man from Father’s memories?”

“Yes. Did your father speak of him?”

Leia shook her head.

“No. I.. have tried to pry, but Father never relents. I can sense… hatred from him, if I bring it up with him. And pain. More pain than hate, I think. It’s confusing,” she scowled, rubbing at her temples in frustration. “Who was he? Father’s master?”

“He was. He was an excellent Jedi. The thing about Obi-Wan was… he was compassionate, and kind. But he put his faith in the dogma, and in the Force. He could seal his doubts away, he lost his own master during a battle but overcame his grief. Anakin never could. Obi-Wan let fate take the wheel, and I know he hoped to teach Anakin the same, but it wasn’t possible. Anakin and I… never knew how to properly conform to that doctrine. Still, the last time I spoke to Obi-Wan… he loved your father. He was as much of a brother to Anakin, as Anakin was to me. I know he had a difficult time showing it, but he was.”

Leia felt the fuzzy, electrical pricks of Father’s anguish as she allowed herself to dwell on that. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi. The broken man from her nightmare; a flash of searing redhot pain surging through her as the figurative wound was torn open. _He’d turned his back and walked away, his shape fading as a film of tears blurred the image_. She flinched, gritting her teeth and it was over before it began. She felt the cold sweat damp against her forehead, and she sucked in an unsteady breath. 

Obi-Wan. With glassy, mournful pale blue eyes. His disappointment, his guilt. Father’s bitter anger, she could taste it. Vicious, unrestrained, poisonous. It was only then she realized that it wasn’t hate he channeled. Steadying herself and looking back up at Ahsoka’s face, their gazes locked and Leia felt soothed by her aura, lulled as it swept the remnants of Father’s turmoil aside. No more disdain, only remorse. When Leia felt her voice would carry her, she spoke up again; the silence thick and oppressing.

“Is he alive?”

“I don’t know. No one does. He disappeared after the purge, after the Empire rose to power. The last I saw of him was a holo message he left at the ruins of the Jedi temple, begging any remaining stragglers of the order to stay in hiding. I don’t know where he is, or if he’s gone. I haven’t sensed his demise, but so many Jedi died that day… it was near impossible to make everyone out.”

Ahsoka sighed, wringing her hands back and forth, impatient Leia thought at first, but she realized it was probably nervous anxiousness making the woman antsy. Desperate to keep the conversation going, Leia was surprised by her own words when she spoke again.

“The dream. Vision. Whatever it was. You said you had it too, didn’t you?”

Ahsoka looked up, a grim expression settling on her face as she nodded.

“I did.”

“Prepare for landing,” Father’s voice interrupted, a clear warning to cease probing.

It startled Leia, as it came from within; telepathically ringing through her mind. It was so soft, montone and void of sentiment, but human. Nothing like the harsh vocalizer, and every time she heard it; she found it difficult to associate it with Father’s deep, menacing rumble. She knew this was Father’s true voice, but it was so rarely used; it seemed as foreign as a stranger. Still, she tensed up as she realized the next step of the plan was about to be set in motion. She filed the thoughts of the dream, the nightmare, vision, whatever it was, away until a later time. Instead, she scrambled to her feet and secured herself as best as she could. She should be expecting a smooth landing, but she couldn’t help herself. When she wasn’t flying herself, she was used to somewhat rocky touchdowns flying with Papa. Smiling at her, Ahsoka simply clung to one of the ceiling handles near the entrance to the cockpit area; eyes focused ahead, likely on Father.

Still, as they entered the atmosphere, Leia leaning forward to peer through the sliver of the cockpit viewport she could catch from her odd angle; she felt excitement when she noted the veils of pale, soft clouds enveloping them in their descent. There was some turbulence she wrote off as fairly common on Bespin, Papa had once said during one of his many lectures. She’d never been to Cloud City herself, but she’d heard tales. She had a particular memory of Mama’s protegee, Evaan Verlaine, mentioning the city being _‘pretty to look at, but rotten to the core’_. She hoped those predictions would turn out to be wrong, for their safety’s sake. She wasn’t looking forward to possible run-ins with bounty hunters or further assassins set on striking her down on Tarkin and The Elite’s behalf.

With a subtle jostle, and a faint metallic grinding noise; the freighter came to a gentle halt. There was a familiar whoosh of air, as the engines cooled off, letting out leftover steam along the docking port. Leia stretched her sore arms over her head, ignoring the phantom sensations of scorching heat her dream had left her with and the sting of her battered shoulder. As always, she decided to stow it away for a later occasion. Preferably when they were no longer on the run, carrying out their little stealth mission. As if he’d been conjured out of thin air, Father suddenly appeared in the doorway exiting the cockpit. Ahsoka seemed to be straightening up as well, pulling her hood back up over her towering montrals to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.

“You need not worry, no one will recall your presence if I do not wish them to,” he rumbled, and Leia had the feeling he was speaking to both of them.

Ahsoka simply nodded, as did Leia but she still followed the older woman’s lead, pulling her own hood up and peering with an abashed expression down at Father’s cape pooling around her ankles. It was dusty, dirty, stained and a bit tattered - crumpled into a hefty heap of black fabric. Feeling bad for her disregard of the clothing, she crouched to gather it in her slender arms to her best efforts; bringing it over to Father, and making a clear effort not to trip on the heavy masses of dark cloth. Father didn’t move, his arms folded across his chest, but she could sense some amusement from him; her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she held the fabric out in front of her like an offering. Out of her peripheral, she caught Ahsoka’s smile, briefly displaying pearly white teeth and barely visible wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Leia imagined she must look rather silly, her arms trembling from the unexpected weight when Father finally took the cape from her. He meticulously folded it up with a couple of simple, well practiced motions and placed it aside on the nearest, empty cargo holder. Leia scowled in confusion, but he simply waved a dismissive hand in its direction.

“It is hardly necessary for me to put it back on. It will raise more suspicion than not, given its condition,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Leia hung her head and nodded, feeling sheepish but not quite sure why. Glancing at the pasty, dry blood caking Father’s bandages and biting her bottom lip anxiously.

“What about your side? Won’t people notice _that?_ ”

“No. Do not fret, there are many things you do not yet understand when it comes to the Force. However, I shall assure you of this - it will remain unnoticed if I wish so.”

“I thought master Obi-Wan taught us _both_ not to use mind tricks on innocent bystanders,” Ahsoka chimed in out of nowhere, a wry look on her face.

There was a clear pang of discomfort from Father, but instead of snapping as Leia had expected; there was only sadness in his aura. Not the usual rage Leia was well versed with at this point, but rather a melancholic acceptance; and something buried further down, something wistful and almost innocent. She could tell Ahsoka feared she’d made a mistake by evoking the past, clearly falling back into a habitual jargong with Father - from the days they were not enemies but friends. _Brother and sister_ , Leia reminded herself.

“Indeed,” Father finally said, and for the first time the words were poignantly cheeky. “But he is not here, and you always did prefer _my_ manner of handling things, didn’t you?”

“If you must remind me, then yes,” Ahsoka pointed out, and as soon as she uttered those syllables; the melancholy was swept away, and Leia found herself no longer trapped in a suffocating vice of tension between her and Father.

Father was indeed still distant, but he was no longer hostile. Leia wasn’t sure the sorrow that had taken to the forefront was that much of an upgrade compared to the anger, but it would have to do. Checking her pockets, she made sure she was still carrying her candid vibroblade as well as one of the blasters Aphra had lended her earlier; strapped down to the holster at her right thigh. She gave Ahsoka another glance, and then settled on eyeing Father’s faceplate; awaiting his orders.

“Where to?”

“We are in dire need of a code transmitter with a functional encrypting upgrade, and we are going to acquire one. There is a workshop close to the mining transport lines. The docking bay where we are located resides on the first level, we need to access the labouring area in what is effectively the basement level. You will follow me, and speak only if necessary. There will be Imperial guards stationed along the way, and I shall deal with them as is fit. The viceroy is not yet in orbit but will meet us as soon as the transmission has been sent, if all goes as is intended.”

Leia nodded, ignoring the gnawing sensation of concern at the pit of her belly. Still, she trusted Father knew what he was doing. Holding her head high, she put on the most blank expression she could muster. She knew how to fake it, and come off as dignified to her peers. If she could convince any opposition on the way that she was intended to walk alongside Darth Vader of all people, there would be no struggle.

Ahsoka went up ahead, pressing the console that would extend the landing pad, and Leia looked up as she felt a large, heavy hand come to rest briefly atop her shoulder. Father was glancing down at her, through the indecipherable lenses of his mask; his large form looming over her.

“I apologize for my disregard of your consent. I did not intend to undermine your deliberation skills,” he said, and Leia scowled in confusion for a moment before realizing he was asking for her forgiveness.

She wasn’t too upset to begin with, although she found herself pouting. She would have preferred him to ask her first, or at the very least consider that she may want to speak to Papa amidst the turmoil just in case things took a turn for the worse. Still, she reached up to place her tiny hand over his, encouraging him with a squeeze. She could sense his sincerity, and his uncertainty. He was unsure about whether he’d done the right thing, uncomfortable when needing to redeem himself and his decision of rendering her unconscious through his Force powers.

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again. At least tell me, and you know, ask for permission,” Leia settled on and Father said nothing, but she could sense the relief pouring off of him.

The landing pad had already locked in place with a firm clicking noise, and Father let go to stride past her and follow Ahsoka out into bright, inviting daylight. Leia squinted as she hurried after him; happy to see the sunlight welcoming her for the first time in what felt like an eternity although she found herself temporarily blinded. She blinked, glancing around herself to take in her surroundings as soon as the coloured dots that floated past her vision faded into nothingness.

Cloud City was smaller than she had imagined, compact and meticulously planned. The city appeared to be suspended midair, hovering with no visible pillars to aid it thousands of feet above ground. As Leia peered over the landing platform, all that met her eyes were endless expanses of fluffy white clouds, and a vast pink sky. 

_Bespin is a gas giant_ , Papa had informed her in the past, its groundlevel toxic and difficult to traverse. Its resources were endless, but its environment downright lethal. The city itself was pretty, its architecture not quite as shiny or richly embellished as Coruscant’s buzzing skyline, neither was it as awe inspiring as the Alderaanian citadels Leia had grown up within. Still, it had charm and it was a breath of fresh air in its modern appeal. It had its own brand of neat, the construction forming smooth curves in light shades. The shape of the city itself reminded her of an elongated disc or egg, but Leia could smell what was an unmistakable, sweet tinge of spices. She now understood what Verlaine had once meant by _pretty on the outside, rotten to the core_.

“Let us stall no longer,” Father barked, and it was a command Leia was compelled to obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is actually only part of the chapter I wrote for the 11th installment of this fic. But a friend rightfully convinced me to split it into two - it had reached a whopping 12 pages and I try to keep my count below 10 a chapter. Thus, the additional content is now being reworked into a much faster paced chapter 12. I hope this is still enough to satiate your thirst for the continuation after such a long delay. Thank you for keeping up with and enjoying my work!

**Author's Note:**

> An AU fic in which Vader discovers that a thirteen year old Leia Organa is his daughter by accident, leading to the pair attempting to overcome the ways in which they have both been deceived.


End file.
